


The Devil's Eyes

by Satans_Little_Side_Piece



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (Cartoon 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beetlejuice (1988) Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Original Character(s), Neitherworld (Beetlejuice), trigger warnings apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satans_Little_Side_Piece/pseuds/Satans_Little_Side_Piece
Summary: Lydia Deetz twirled, carefree, around her attic, expecting to be alone. Little did she know, the model town held secrets-- one very big secret-- that would change her life forever.Betelgeuse smoked a cigarette outside of Dante's, wishing foranythingto happen. Then, she walked in and everything changed.Please check notes for trigger warnings. I put them in the chapter notes at the beginning of the chapter so that you can be prepared.
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz & Delia Deetz
Comments: 86
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please no criticisms.  
> I write this in my spare time to keep my writing routine active while I try to figure out the next point in my novel series. I just like sharing some of my work.  
> Thank you.  
> SIDENOTE:  
> I am also writing from several different perspectives and will use a line break to let you know when that is going to occur.  
> Please check notes for trigger warnings.

“Be careful up there!” Barbara’s voice rang out as Lydia ascended the staircase to the attic. She laughed, a twinkling sound, and agreed, pushing the heavy door closed behind her. The Maitlands’ hadn’t been around long, but it was clear to Lydia that they saw her as one of their own. She smiled and turned to the window, where a speaker had been set up.   
“Happy Birthday to me,” Lydia whispered, pressing play on her favorite song. It started up, the beat taking over and drowning out any other sounds. She stepped back, her hips swaying in time with the music and her hands held high above her head. Her eyes fluttered closed and she bit her bottom lip gently, dancing like no one could see her. In her mind, no one could see her.   
She hadn’t told the Maitlands it was her birthday and her dad and his wife, Delia, were out of town for the week, gathering people to come look at their Haunted House on the Hill. Lydia tried to stop them-- she didn’t want them treating the Maitlands like some sort of zoo animal or experiment-- but they wouldn’t be persuaded. So, she was left to dance her 18th birthday away, alone, in the attic.

* * *

Betelgeuse stood on the balcony of Dante’s in the little model town Adam built, smoking a cigarette and waiting for _something_ to happen. He hadn’t seen or heard anyone come near the attic since he scared the Maitlands. He chuckled to himself over the memory. He ran a dirty, taloned hand through his greasy hair and flicked his cigarette over the ledge, watching it as it landed on the fake grass. A part of him hoped that it would catch fire or melt or something-- he was so bored it hurt.   
When the cigarette went out, having only partially melted a few of the plastic, green blades, he sighed and turned around to go back inside. At least at Dante’s, he could pass the time. He shook his head and stepped toward the smoke-filled room, resigned to spend eternity stuck in this stupid routine.   
A door shut. He whipped back around, stepping toward the ledge. From his vantage point, he could see someone, a woman, walking toward the window. His eyebrow twitched when he saw how small the girl was. She stood maybe 5’4”, her long, black hair billowed all the way down to her mid thigh. Betelgeuse shook his head, telling himself that he might be a pervert, but he wasn’t gonna go nowhere near a kid.   
“Happy Birthday to me,” the girl whispered, and a song rang out through the attic. He shook his head again, feeling a sort of pang in his chest as he watched her sway and rock to the music.   
“Hey!” He yelled before it could even register that he was speaking to her. “Down here!”   
He stood, mouth slightly agape, shocked at himself. Why would he draw attention to himself? Especially when he had already decided that she was much too young for him. Call him a bleedin’ heart, though; he just couldn’t stand the sight of that pretty girl celebratin’ her birthday all alone.

* * *

Lydia danced for a while before she heard something. She paused her music, listening again. Just when she had almost decided she was going crazy, she heard it again.   
“Down here!”   
She looked around, not able to see anyone. She bent over, her skirt gently pulling up in the back, and looked under the boxes surrounding her.   
“Hey!”  
Her gaze was drawn by the model, which stood firm in the center of the attic. As many times as she had been here before, she couldn’t remember ever seeing that glowing red building. She stepped closer, leaning in. She gasped when she saw him. His platinum blonde hair tinged with an earthy green color was slicked back and his eyes… She didn’t think she had ever seen anything like them before. She didn’t step back, though, and didn’t show any sort of fear.  
“Hi,” she whispered, leaning closer so that the Maitlands couldn’t hear her. “Who are you?”  
“Can’t tell you that, Babes,” Betelgeuse smirked, “but I did overhear you.”  
He reached behind his back and pulled out a single, long-stemmed black rose, offering it to her.   
Confusion wracked Lydia’s face, but she offered her palm to accept the rose. The moment it touched her skin, it grew to a normal size. Her eyes widened when she saw this, but she didn’t mention anything.   
“Thank you,” Lydia’s voice still came as barely a whisper, not wanting to hurt the poor poltergeist.   
“Welcome, Babes.”

* * *

Betelgeuse watched her every move, gasping slightly when her skirt lifted up enough for him to see her thin black panties. He averted his gaze, though, repeating to himself that she must be just a kid. He called out again, finally getting her to come over.   
“Who are you?”   
“Can’t tell you that, Babes, but I did overhear you.”   
What the fuck am I doing? Betelgeuse reached behind his back, conjuring a long-stemmed black rose and offering it over to the girl. He smiled when he saw her reach forward, accepting his mediocre gift. He took a deep breath, waggling two fingers so that the rose would grow as she pulled it away. He smirked when her eyes went wide.   
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so low he could almost not make it out.   
“Welcome Babes,” Betelgeuse smiled, seeing the wonder that rushed through her eyes. An idle thought of those eyes looking up at him crossed through his head, but he shook the thought loose, repeating his mantra to himself.   
“Why can’t you tell me your name?” The girl whispered.   
“Aw, yer just a kid,” Betelgeuse smirked, “You wouldn’t understand.”

* * *

Lydia’s face flushed when he called her a kid. Her stature often had people confusing her for someone much younger.   
“I am 18 today, I’ll have you know.” She didn’t know why she said it, but once it was out, there was no taking it back. She looked away, ashamed for some reason, and wiped a single tear from her ashen cheek. She was so pale, so short, so thin. She felt these things beat through her head, leaving her with idle thoughts of self-destruction.   
She didn’t know why she cared what this little monster thought, anyway. It didn’t make much sense for her to seek validation from a tiny man living in a model town.

* * *

Betelgeuse gasped upon discovering her real age. A part of him whispered a silent ‘thank you’ to no one in particular. He saw her wipe a tear from her pale cheek, her nearly black eyes shimmering in the miniscule light of the attic’s single bulb. He could tell that a lot of thoughts were racing through her mind, but he waited until she looked back at him before he said anything else.   
“I can’t tell you my name because of some dumb rules by some dumber people.” Betelgeuse shook his head, anger flashing through his eyes.  
“Maybe I could guess it?”  
Betelgeuse smiled and nodded his head, conjuring up a beetle that danced around her hand.   
“Beetle?”  
Betelgeuse nodded, growing excited. He thought for a moment and conjured up a glass of orange juice, which confused the girl for a moment. She didn’t say anything for a long time, but he could see the gears working in her head. Just when he was about to give up, though, she said it.   
“Juice.”  
Betelgeuse felt a wave of relief wash over him and he drew his index fingers together, hoping she would get the hit.   
“Beetlejuice?” She looked confused for a moment, but the way she whispered his name caused him to grow hard. He shook that thought from his mind, waiting for the girl to get past any confusion.   
“Betelgeuse,” she smiled, “Like the star.”  
“Like the star,” he beamed up at her.   
“Now, if you say it three times, I can get out of here. Maybe dance with you,” Betelgeuse rocked his hips side to side, much in the same way Lydia was doing earlier.   
Lydia felt her heart leap at the prospect of letting the poltergeist out of his confines, of dancing with him.  
“Maybe I should talk to Barbara, first,” Lydia’s voice trembled, scared of the idea that he might actually want anything to do with her. What scared her more, though, was the idea that he was just using her to get out. No one ever really wanted her, so why would he be any different.   
She looked down, waiting for his response. When one didn’t come, she leaned in closer, trying to see him better.

* * *

“Hey, If ya want to run it by yer keeper, I get it.” Betelgeuse chose his tone and words carefully, not wanting to scare the girl off. He registered a scoff when he finished speaking, but was caught up in his own thoughts. If he could just get her comfortable enough to dance with him, marriage would be easy.   
If Betelgeuse married a living person, he would be free from this hell-hole. No more boredom, no more wandering around Dante’s and fucking the same three bitches for the next 7 centuries. Pure, unadulterated freedom-- but it came with a price.   
That dumb book he stole told him the cost-- he was stuck with whomever he ended up marrying. For better or for worse, for all eternity. He didn’t read much past that, but he thought that if he could handle one woman for the rest of his life, he would be able to handle anything.   
“Betelguese.”   
His heart would’ve skipped a beat if it were still beating. He just imagined his name coming out of her mouth while he was on top of her, inside of her. He couldn’t help himself, really. Now that he knew she wasn’t a kid, his mind ran away with him.   
“Betelguese.”  
 _One more time, baby girl, one more time._ His erection grew nearly painful as she said his name a second time. He wanted-- no, needed to feel that mouth around him. He just had to play it nice for a while; he needed her to join the marriage of her own free will.   
“Betelguese.”  
He smiled as he grew in size, hopping from the table to stand in front of her. He got a good look at those panties, now, and swore under his breath. His hands instinctively went for her ass, but he stopped himself, gently resting his hands on her hips instead.

* * *

Saying his name a third time, Lydia gasped when she saw him begin to grow. He landed in front of her and looked up as he grew in front of her. A part of her felt ashamed when she noticed him looking up her skirt, but another part of her felt exhilarated. No one had ever looked at her the way he was right now. When his hands came to rest on her hips, she took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment.   
Her music started back up and she felt the poltergeist lead her hips, swaying with her. _Happy Birthday to me._ She gazed up at him and felt her heart skip a beat.   
“My name is Lydia,” she whispered, resting her head on his chest. She couldn’t understand why she felt safe with him, but she did. She felt like she could trust him.   
“Lydia,” Betelgeuse whispered her name, leaning down so his voice would tickle her ear. She felt a warmness spread between her legs at the way he said her name. Heat rose in her cheeks as she realized what was happening. _I am getting turned on by a man who lives in the whorehouse of a model town._ Lydia giggled uncontrollably at the prospect, attempting to press her face into her hands.

* * *

“What’s so funny?” Betelgeuse released one hand from her hips, lifting her face to look at him. He was so gentle with his movements; he didn’t realize he could be that gentle.   
“I…” Lydia fell into another fit of laughter. Betelgeuse smiled pressing closer to her. He felt the heat radiating from her and smirked, understanding. _This is gonna be easier than I thought._ He decided to play this through, have a little fun. It had been too long since he had actually had any fun. Sure, the girls at Dante’s were talented, but there was just so much frigid flesh a man could take. The girl in his arms was soft, warm, _alive._  
His mind wandered for a moment, chasing visions of what he could do to her, what he could do with her. He let those visions go and focused on the moment at hand. He pulled her hips closer to his and, as a more fast-paced song started up, ground against her, keeping up with the beat of the music. His eyes lit up when he saw her blush and he kept going, pressing closer to her.

* * *

Lydia had no idea what was happening to her. She felt him grind against her, felt his erection press against her hip. She was nearly dripping wet by this point and her face was so hot it might actually cook eggs. She thought for a moment that he was going to push her over the model and take her right then and there and, to be honest, in the state she was in, she didn’t know if she minded.   
A little voice in her head told her that of course she minded, but she could barely hear it over the pounding of her own heart. The song ended and, just like that, Betelgeuse pulled away, letting her have enough room to breathe. A part of her wanted him back, but she thought that, maybe, she should be disgusted by him. He was dead, for crying out loud!   
There was gravedirt on his lapel! She thought his breath would smell bad, too, but the more she paid attention to it, the more she realized it smelled like coffee and cigars-- maybe with an earthy smell underneath, but she didn’t actually mind that. His eyes were heavy and lidded, a bright shade of yellowish-green. His teeth, which she thought at first to be rotting, were just crooked and stained.   
Everything she tried to make the man standing in front of her repulsive ended up making her more attracted to him. She dropped her head in her hands, the blush beginning to chap her cheeks, and sighed. She must be as crazy as everyone told her she was.

* * *

Betelgeuse watched as the girl looked over him, taking in every aspect of her face. Her big eyes were a dark brown, but could be mistaken for black on the first glance. Her porcelain skin probably wouldn’t be able to take much more of that blushing she was doing, but he found it endearing. Her cheekbones stood high, leaving her heart-shaped face with soft angles. Her lips, painted a deep red, were plush and naturally curved into a gentle smile.   
“Hey,” he lifted her chin with one gentle finger, making her look at him. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”  
Lydia gasped and shook her head, not wanting to tell him anything. He sighed and shook his head, dropping one hand to her posterior.   
“I think you’re pretty fuckin’ cute, too,” He whispered, his voice tickling her ear. He felt her gasp and pull away a bit, but not enough to break the circle of his arms.   
“I di… I didn’t…” Lydia stumbled over her words, trying to say anything that would make the poltergeist step back.   
“You do, though,” Betelgeuse pressed against her, “but it can wait. I can wait.”   
He released her, causing her to slump in his arms. A smile crossed his lips. _Maybe this whole bein’ tied down thing’ll work out. She’s pretty cute. Got a real nice ass._  
“Lydia!” Barbara’s voice interrupted any thoughts he might have. “Time for dinner!”

* * *

Lydia pulled herself together, taking a few deep breaths and trying to muster up any courage she could find. She pressed a peck on Betelgeuse’s cheek before she could talk herself out of it and stepped toward the door. She looked back at him and smirked to see his hand pressed over his cheek, a bewildered look in his eyes.   
“I’ll be back, so don’t go anywhere.”   
With those words, the last of Lydia’s courage was used up and she pulled the door shut as she stepped out of it. She sighed once the heavy door latched in place, taking some time to let herself calm down before she stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****TRIGGER WARNING****  
> Mentions of and allusions to self-harm.  
> Please stay safe and take care of yourselves, Babes!

As she descended down the stairs, Lydia played over the scene in her mind. _It can wait. I can wait._ Some small part of her wanted to be angry at the presumption that she wanted him to do anything. Mostly, though, she just felt exhilarated. He seemed to want her, but she didn't really know how to feel about that. As ashamed as it made her, she had to admit that she _liked_ the way he took control, the way he made her feel.  
She wondered for a moment if she should say anything to Barb and Adam. They used to live in the attic, maybe they knew him.  
"Betelgeuse."

* * *

Betelgeuse shivered, feeling the pull of his name. He sat, splayed out, in the corner of the room, his hand working his erection through his pants. He didn't want to pull it out, in case Lydia came back early; he really didn't want to do anything that would hurt his prospects with her. He just couldn't help himself.  
He closed his eyes, remembering how she looked up at him through her eyelashes. He could almost feel the heat she had displayed and his free hand mimicked the curve of her ass. He gripped himself harder before he remembered that he could probably make it where none of them could see him. He hadn't ever been left out on his own before, so he never had the opportunity to try, but he just had to see her again.  
He focused on her, closing his eyes. When he reopened them, she was in front of him, seated at a dinner table. He reaches out and ran his fingers down her arm, making her shiver. She looked right through him, though, which made him smile. _Oh, the fun we're gonna have, baby girl._

* * *

Lydia felt something cold brush against her arm and shivered, looking around. Barb was bringing food to the table and Adam was seated across from her, to the left, which left the seat in front of her open, like it always was. She thought about asking him if he saw anything touch her, but she decided against it. She did, however, decide to ask them about Betelgeuse, but she had to be careful. She didn't want to ask them straight; she was scared of what they would tell her.  
The thought of Betelgeuse caused her to grow warm again, her face flushing as it did. She hoped no one would be able to tell. She shivered again as she felt something run up her sides. She felt an uneven pressure in her back.  
"Why don't you guys go back to the attic anymore?" Lydia's voice came out calm and even, though her heart pounded against her chest.  
Barb and Adam shared a look that told her something was wrong. Lydia waited, patient on the surface, while inside she was dying to know.

* * *

Betelgeuse smirked as he watched Lydia squirm in her seat. The Maitlands were too innocent to see what was going on, but he knew. And he loved it. He moved behind her,running his hands up her sides, causing her to shiver again. He groaned quietly, pressing himself against her back through the chair. She pressed back against him and, for the briefest moment, he wondered if she knew he was here.  
He winced when she asked the Maitlands why they didn't return to their attic hideout, knowing that, if they didn't tell her now, she was going to find out on her own. He panicked for a moment, wondering how she would react to their answer.  
"We, uh, we just prefer it down here with you," Adam lied. Betelgeuse grinned, knowing he had scared them enough that they didn't even want to mention anything about him.  
"I… I don't think that's why," Lydia glared sideways at Adam, shifting her body to press harder against Betelgeuse. She didn't know he was there, but her body responded to him, just the same. Betelgeuse chuckled, tugging gently on a lock of her hair, taking great care not to alert her to his presence. He wanted her to think about him, but he didn't want to rush this. He was having entirely too much fun.  
"Betel…" Barb's voice quivered, floated from the kitchen. She was too scared to say his name even once. Betelgeuse's breath caught in his throat. His game might be over sooner than he planned.

* * *

"What?" Lydia played innocent, not wanting to alert them to her knowledge. She felt air stir her hair and she imagined for a moment that she heard Betelgeuse's voice whispering "Fuck". She admitted to herself that he was probably standing behind her, pressing that cold, hard erection in the small of her back. She didn't let on that she knew, wanting to continue playing the game.  
She knew that they all expected her to be innocent little Lydia, and she loved that. She loved the freedom that came with being perceived as too innocent to know anything. It made her feel _alive_.  
"Betelgeuse," Adam whispered, subconsciously aware of the fact that, no matter how low he spoke it, once the word was spoken aloud, it counted.  
"The star?" Lydia continued playing dumb, pressing her back against the invisible lump there. She felt her hair moving and she reached up, hoping to feel Betelgeuse's cold flesh against her palm. When she didn't, she pouted internally.  
She hadn't even known the man a full day and she already missed him.

* * *

Betelgeuse moaned under his breath when she pushed back against him. He wanted so badly to just materialize and fuck her right on the dining table, Barbara and Adam be damned. He kept himself under control, barely, whispering to himself that he had to play right, had to marry her first. He couldn't remember the exact reason that book gave for it, but he remembered that, if they 'consummated' before marriage, the marriage wouldn't take right or something.  
It was hard to concentrate with her pressed so tightly against him.  
He felt a tug inside as Adam dared to whisper his name. He grimaced, hoping they would expect him to be tucked away and therefore too scared to say it twice more. Then, he felt the vibration of Lydia's voice.  
"The star?"  
He chuckled as she pressed back against him. Maybe she wasn't as innocent as he'd thought. She seemed to know the game, to want to play the game. He smiled and decided to let her play.  
He gripped the back of her hair gently, again, trying not to alert anyone, but she reached back. He pulled his hand away as quickly as he could. He couldn't have her giving him away. He felt her sigh slightly in resignation and decided to give her something to let him know she was there.  
He placed a cold talon gingerly on the side of her neck, trying not to give her a shock and praying that she wouldn't react in a way that the Maitlands would catch on.

* * *

Lydia felt cold fingers wrap around the side of her throat. She smirked to herself, finally getting the confirmation she wanted. She thought about her next move for a moment, wanting to let Betelgeuse know she got his message without letting Barb and Adam in on the game.  
She yawned and stretched, sliding her hand down her neck and feeling the ridges of his fingers. She squeezed them gently and let her hand slide down her side, resting on her thigh.  
"He's a monster," Barbara whispered, setting down Lydia's plate with a thump. Lydia thanked her quietly before asking what she meant.  
"Well…" Barb began, clearly looking for the right words. Lydia waited with patience, thinking about the word Barb used: _monster_. She could see why he would look like a monster, but she found all of those things… sexy. His crooked teeth, the smell of tobacco on his breath, his bright, unearthly eyes. She loved all of them.  
She reached behind her, as discreetly as she could, and felt him through the hole in the back of the chair. She felt something and squeezed gently, earning a rough sigh that moved her hair.  
She hadn't meant to touch him _there_. Her face flushed slightly as she pulled her hands away. She prayed no one saw what just happened.  
"He…" Barb stopped, shaking. Lydia waited.  
"Let's just say he scared us, Lyd." Adam reached forward and clasped her hand in his own, squeezing as if to comfort her. Lydia had to stifle a laugh.  
Of course Betelgeuse scared them! He was a ghost! Hadn't they been trying to scare her own family?

* * *

Betelgeuse froze when he heard Barb call him a monster. She wasn't wrong, but he didn't need her filling Lydia's pretty little head with those ideas. He felt anger flash through him and, just as he was about to materialize to give her a piece of his mind, he felt Lydia shift forward. He looked down, scared that Barb's words had scared away from him.  
She squeezed his member through his pants, and he sighed, trying to be as quiet as he could. He was _really_ enjoying this game.  
She pulled away from him as quickly as she touched him. He grinned when he saw red rise in her face. Even if she wasn't as innocent as he thought, it would seem that she was still pretty innocent. His mind wandered to all the ways he could help her overcome that.  
He took a steady breath, needing to stay in the moment. He wanted to see what else they would say and how she would take it.  
"He scared us."  
Betelgeuse had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud at that confession. He had more than _scared_ those two, he had _terrified_ 'em! He still took pride in that one.  
He leaned around Lydia, searching for her response. She covered her mouth, letting out a slight cough as tears rose to her eyes.  
_That's my girl._

* * *

"Are you getting sick?" Barb asked, leaning in and placing a hand to Lydia's forehead. The girl could not understand what Barb was doing; of course she was gonna feel warm. She was warm-- for a lot of reasons, but mostly because she was alive.  
Barb's hand sent a chill down her spine, causing her to shiver against Betelgeuse. Honestly, she was surprised that no one else felt his presence. It had been growing stronger the longer they sat here.  
"No, no," Lydia grabbed Barb's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "I think I'm just hungry."  
"Let's dig in, then," Adam seemed happy for the distraction, not wishing to continue talking about the monster in the attic. Lydia picked up her fork gingerly, eating as elegantly and properly as if Betelgeuse weren't there. If she hadn't, the Maitlands would have been on alert.  
When everyone was finished, she tapped her hand on her seat, indicating to the unseen spectre that she was about to slide her chair back. After a few moments, she got up and washed the dishes, excusing herself back to the attic when she was finished.  
She waited on the stairs for a few moments, eavesdropping.  
"Do you really think it's safe to let her go up there with that... That… pervert?" Adam whispered fervently.  
"She would go up there if we let her or not. Probably more often if we told her she couldn't," Barb sighed. "She's a good girl, but she's still a teenager. Still got a little rebellion in her. Where else do you think that tattoo came from?"  
Lydia chuckled and pushed the attic door open, letting the latch fall into place before she whispered his name.  
"Betelgeuse."

* * *

When Lydia tapped her hand, Betelgeuse got the message. He stepped back, letting her up from her chair. He watched her move gracefully past him, in spite of the dishes she carried. He stayed behind for a few minutes, listening in on Barbara and Adam, who stayed uncharacteristically quiet.  
Lydia excused herself to the attic and Betelgeuse stayed behind again, waiting to see if they would say anything after she left.  
He chuckled at Adam's accusation. _Pervert_. He couldn't argue with that one.  
His ears perked up when Barb mentioned Lydia's tattoo. His erection twitched as he imagined what it was and, more importantly, _where_ it was. He wanted so badly to find out.  
He heard the attic door click closed and felt a gentle tug as Lydia whispered his name. Usually, it annoyed him when that tug came around, but for her, he found himself excited.  
"Yeah, Babes?" Betelgeuse materialized behind her, gripping her waist gently. He scoffed at himself inwardly. In any other situation, he wouldn't be so gentle, so kind. But he needed this girl to set him free.  
Lydia stiffened in his hands for a moment before relaxing back into them.  
"That wasn't a very nice game." Lydia turned to face him, not pulling away. The pout on her face made his mind go wild.  
"Wasn't s'posed ta be," Betelgeuse growled, forgetting himself for a moment. He pulled her into a harsh kiss, his mouth enveloping hers, and grabbed her ass. He forced her mouth open, hungry for her tongue. He sought it out, wrapping it with his own, and kept kissing until she was tomato red.  
When he pulled away, a tinge of regret pinched in his stomach. He really had to be more careful.

* * *

Lydia gasped slightly when Betelgeuse wrapped his cold hands around her hips, pulling her close to him. She turned, wanting to keep playing their flirtatious game. No one had ever flirted with her before and she _really_ enjoyed that kind of attention.  
She had no real idea what she was doing, but decided to play on with the innocent thing. Maybe he liked innocent?  
"That wasn't a very nice game," she pouted, seeing desire rise in his yellowish eyes. She took a gamble, and with his next action, she knew she made the right choice.  
"Wasn't s'posed ta be."  
Before she could do anything, he pulled her into a gruff kiss. She gasped in surprise, never having been kissed before. His hand was on her ass, pulling her closer to him. She sighed, losing herself in the kiss.  
She could barely catch up before his tongue was in her mouth, twisting and curling around her own, searching.  
She forgot to breathe, though her lungs burned and begged for release, she didn't want to pull away.  
He let her go, breaking their kiss. She saw something like regret cross his face. She knew it.  
He had to regret choosing her. He couldn't actually be interested in her.  
_Stupid!_ She barated herself. _It was your birthday and he felt sorry for you, that's all._  
She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her eyes burning with tears that hadn't yet fallen.  
"I'm sorry," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean…"

* * *

Betelgeuse waited for her to react. She seemed to be having some sort of internal argument. Then, her big, beautiful eyes turned up to him, filled with tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks.  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"  
He barely heard her at first, but the moment she said anything, his mouth was on hers again, more gently this time.  
"What do you have to be sorry for, Lyds?" He whispered, pulling away and stroking her hair.  
"I… I…"  
In that instant, Betelgeuse understood.  
"Was that your first kiss?" He tilted her chin so that her eyes locked with his. She nodded, lips pursed, trying not to cry.  
"Oh, Babes, I'm so sorry. If I'd'a known, I'd'a made it better." He rubbed a hand through his hair. He couldn't understand why he even said that. What did he care? Why did he care?  
He didn't get a chance to think about why he cared before another thought crossed his mind.  
"Why haven't you kissed anyone before?"  
"I… People don't really… like me."  
Her response took him by surprise. He rubbed his stubbly chin for a moment, then got a _fun_ idea.  
"Spin for me, Babes."

* * *

Lydia was confused by his request, but complied, curious to see where this would go. She spun slowly, letting his eyes rake over her as she did. She felt very self-conscious, scared that he would find fault with her.  
"Beautiful."  
She turned a deeper shade of red at this affirmation.  
"You really think so?"  
"Babes, why would I lie to ya?"  
Any elation she felt suddenly dropped; the basic view of her body might appease him, but the scars… her personality… These things would absolutely drive him off.  
Again, the ridiculousness of her fear hit her. He was _dead_!  
_For crying out loud, Lydia, why do you care what he thinks of you?_  
She stood, silent as these thoughts raced through her mind, and absently pushed her finger up her sleeve, retracing the scars she'd put there.

* * *

Beetlegeuse raked his eyes hungrily over her form, discerning what he could beneath her long-sleeved dress. It might have been short enough to let him have fleeting glimpses as she twisted, but _God_ , he wanted more. He let that thought go with a sharp reminder of why he couldn't have more. He wouldn't be able to control himself if he had more.  
He let his eyes wander up her long legs, resting on that perfect ass for a moment before he continued up. Her waist was smaller than he thought, her body forming a perfect hourglass. He couldn't _believe_ that he hadn't paid attention to her breasts this whole time.  
They jiggled as she turned and he noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra. Without touching them, he guessed she must've had at least a C-cup, which surprised him. He didn't think she could stay upright with such large breasts.  
"Beautiful," he sighed, without thinking.  
"Do you really think so?"  
He heard the uncertainty in her voice. Anger flashed through him for a moment. He couldn't imagine how anyone would tell her that she was anything less than a knockout.  
"Babes, why would I lie to ya?"  
He saw her demeanor fall flat. He wondered for a moment what it was, but he saw her fiddling underneath her sleeve. He gripped her arm and pushed her sleeve up, being a little rougher than he'd meant to.  
His breath caught when he saw the scars. Her arms were covered in mangled pink lines, tracing up her veins and across her skin.  
He pushed up the other sleeve to find fresh cuts, barely scabbed over.  
"Babes," he kept his voice hushed, scared of what she was going to say, "what happened to ya?"

* * *

When Betelgeuse grabbed her arm, he hurt her. She tried for a moment to pull away, but he didn't even register it. She heard him stop breathing and she felt fear rise in her throat. She didn't know if she wanted to know what he was thinking.  
He grabbed her other arm and her breath caught. He was going to see her latest… She looked up at the ceiling, tears welling in her eyes, wishing that this would be over soon.  
"Babes, what happened to ya?"  
Lydia barely heard him; she was too busy focusing on the strange shadows that stood proudly on the ceiling. If this were any other day, she would have wished she had brought her Polaroid up with her.  
"Nothing."  
Lydia pulled her sleeves down, crossing her arms across her chest, pressing her face down.  
"I guess you don't wanna talk to me anymore," Lydia whispered.

* * *

"Nothing."  
Betelgeuse let her pull her sleeves down and watched her cross her arms. The moment was serious, but he couldn't help but admire the way her arms pressed her breasts together.  
"I guess you don't wanna talk to me anymore."  
Betelgeuse was taken aback. How could she think he would be turned off by her?  
"Babes," Betelgeuse stepped toward her, gingerly taking her face in his hands. "Nothing could make me wanna stop being around you."  
Where was this gentility coming from? Betelgeuse had never been kind nor gentle with anyone in his whole afterlife. What happened to him?  
He shook these thoughts from his head and wrapped the girl in his arms, taking great care to be gentle with hers.

* * *

"You…" Lydia was taken aback when Betelgeuse pulled her into a hug. She had been expecting a lot of things, but not that. Hadn't the Maitlands called him a monster? If he were a monster, why was he treating her with such care? Especially after learning about her weaknesses.  
She melted into the hug, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. She wanted to cry, to kiss him, to disappear, and to fly all at the same time. She didn't move.

* * *

Betelgeuse got an idea. He didn't know how well Lydia would take it, but he decided to try anyway. What was the harm in offering? He planned on tryin' ta marry this girl, didn't he?  
"Babes," he tugged her chin gently so she was forced to look in his eyes, "I can fix these fer ya, if ya want."  
Confusion crossed Lydia's face. "What do you mean?"  
He placed a hand on her arm, silently asking permission to push her sleeve back up. She let him take her arm, sliding the sleeve gingerly up. He blew a steady stream of air on his finger until it glowed, then he traced it over the gnarliest scar. As his finger trailed up her arm, the scar faded into almost nothing.  
He wasn't powerful enough to completely heal the scar, but if you didn't know it was there, you wouldn't be able to see it. He let her arm go, allowing her to admire his handiwork, while he stepped back, nervous that she would be angry with him.  
He wanted to slap himself. He knew he had to be gentle with the girl, but he didn't need to be goin' soft.  
Those thoughts immediately fled from his head as soon as she spoke.  
"Beej, how… Why?"  
His heart woulda leapt in his chest if it still beat.  
"Beej?" Amusement tinged his voice. Lydia's face went cherry red, but he smiled. "I like it."  
"It's just a part of my magic, Babes," Beej shrugged, playing the whole affair as smaller than it was. In reality, it took a lot out of him just to heal that one scar. It must've been pretty old. He cracked his neck and looked her in the eye.  
"Do ya wan' me ta fix tha rest of 'em to?"

* * *

Lydia nodded, her cheeks still flushed from the unexpected nickname that slipped from her mouth. His smile made her feel a bit better, but she was getting really comfortable with him really quickly. She should keep her guard up.  
After a few minutes, all of her pink scars faded down until they were barely visible, slightly silver lines. Even the newer ones were healed. She wondered how long that was gonna last…  
She turned her face up, looking into Beej's eyes. Something she saw worried her. He was sweating, his eyes clenched shut, and he was shaking.  
"Beej? Are you okay?"  
"Yeah, Babes," he responded, his voice quivering, "just takes a lot outta me."  
Lydia felt guilt wash over her. She wanted to do something for him. Something to make him feel better.  
Her heart pounding on her chest, she knelt down and put her hands on her knees, taking a few deep breaths.  
"What're ya doin, Lyds?"

* * *

Betelgeuse breathed heavily, his vision swimming. He had never done anything like that for anyone before. He just needed some rest and he would be okay, but he didn't want her to know how bad it really was.  
"Just takes a lot outta me."  
He clenched his eyes, focusing his energy. When he opened his eyes, Lydia was on her knees in front of him. _Fer fuck's sake._  
"What're ya doin', Lyds?"  
He didn't move, for fear of spooking her. Her eyes shot up at him, anyway.  
"I.. wanna repay the favor." Her voice came out as barely a squeak. Beej cursed himself as she rocked forward on her knees, coming closer to him. He took a deep breath and, before she could unzip his pants, sat down in front of her.  
"Babes, I don't wanna take advantage of ya. Yer… emotional right now."  
He saw her face fall and cursed himself again. He was gonna have to go all in, really all in, for his plan to even have a shot at working.  
"I want our first time ta be… ya know… special."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING**  
> Some allusions to a past sexual mistreatment. It isn't a lot, just a sentence or two, and it isn't explicit. I just didn't want anyone caught off guard!
> 
> Be safe out there, Babes!

_"I want our first time ta be… ya know… special."_  
Lydia's cheeks burned, feeling more foolish than she previously thought possible. She couldn't believe herself. She lowered her eyes, refusing to make eye contact, and got to her feet rigidly. She had every intention of just walking away-- slamming that heavy door and never seeing (or feeling) him again.  
For whatever reason, the idea that she wouldn't see (feel) him almost… _scared_ her. She didn't wanna let him in on that, though, and, after a moment of quiet contemplation, strode to the door.

* * *

Beej felt stupid the moment the words left his mouth, but he couldn't shake the god- _awful_ feeling that he meant those silly words.  
Pushing those thoughts from his brain, he watched Lydia, hoping he hadn't run her off. He _really_ needed this to work.  
When Lydia got to her feet, he pursed his lips and waited, not even blinking (not that he had to or anything), waiting to see how she was going to respond.  
She took off, making her way to the door. Beej took a measured breath (again, more out of habit than anything else) and stood, closing the distance between the two of them.  
He had an idea. He just hoped like Hell that it would work the way he needed it to.  
"Lydia." His voice broke as he pressed his hands on either side of her, pushing her hard against the door. He felt her breath hitch in her throat and had to force himself to focus.  
Looking down at her, he couldn't help himself. She looked so small, so scared, so _helpless_. He had to give her something.  
Without warning, he pressed his lips onto hers. _Gentle, gentle, BJ_. He had to remind himself that he needed to be in it for the long haul.  
He allowed her to relax into the kiss before he took it further, resting one of his hands on her hip and keeping the other firmly planted on the door. He had to keep himself steady, not lose himself. He _needed_ this to work.

* * *

Lydia heard Beej's heavy footsteps. She couldn't tell if they were growing closer or further away, though, so she kept moving toward the door.  
"Lydia."  
_Oh. Wow._ The way he said her name caused her to turn and look at him, butterflies building in her stomach. His arms caged her in, preventing her from moving. She looked up at him, unsure of what to do next. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her mouth stood, slightly agape, unsure of what to do next.  
Within moments, his mouth was on hers, much more gently this time, less hungry. It felt more like the kind of kiss you'd expect from a twelfth date, not the third time you'd ever kissed. At least, that's what Lydia imagined.  
She stiffened up at the contact, at first, partially confused and intrigued. She knew how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to use her and lose her.  
_"I want our first time ta be… ya know… special."_  
The sentence rattled around in her brain for a few more moments before she accepted it. She allowed herself to relax into the kiss, keeping her arms at her side and waiting for his next move.  
She heard something akin to a growl escape his throat; she wasn't sure if he was even aware of that noise. Then, his hand found her hip and she finally let herself fall into the moment.  
Her hands found his shoulders pulling him closer. She had no idea what she was doing, but he seemed to respond to her; he deepened the kiss and found her jaw with his other hand. His hand encompassed her whole cheek and she could feel him hesitate before he pulled her closer, away from the door.  
He broke the kiss first.  
"I meant it."  
His voice was coarse, rough in her ear, sending electricity through her body. He made no move to pull away, his eyes still closed and his hands still in their place.  
She took a measured breath of her own, opening her own eyes and taking a moment before responding.  
"Okay."

* * *

She pulled him closer and Betelgeuse found that he couldn't stop himself from placing a hand on her cheek. He marveled internally at just how small, how _delicate_ she was, how easily he could break her.  
He tried to stop himself, but he pulled her away from the door, hunger growing within him. He had to stop. He had to force himself to stop.  
Breaking the kiss, he kept his eyes closed, taking a measured breath.  
"I meant it."  
His own words surprised him. He couldn't believe he was saying them. He waited, feeling her breathe against him. He wondered if he had said the right thing. He wished he had stopped himself for a moment before her response came.  
"Okay."  
With just that one word, electricity crackled through his body. He did the right thing. He might be able to pull this off, after all.  
He stepped back, resting both hands on her hips and opening his eyes, drinking her in.  
"Forgive me?"  
These words came out before he could stop himself. He hadn't asked forgiveness of anyone in his entire Afterlife. He blinked, slowly, waiting for her answer.  
"I… I do. I wasn't ready, anyway. Not really."  
He felt the heat from her blush radiate from her skin as he heard the hesitation in her voice. He caught her gaze, finding tears welling in her eyes. One escaped down her cheek, her lips trembling.  
"Are you okay?"  
He raised one taloned finger to wipe the stray tear, being much more careful than even he thought possible. Something lurched in his chest and he stopped for a moment. _Was that genuine care?_  
He took a breath, tamping the feeling back down, squashing it like it were one of the bugs he often ate.  
The feeling jumped back in his stomach when he realized that she was a little _too_ upset about this whole thing. Tryin' ta leave, he understood, but cryin'? Cryin' didn't make any sense to him. Until it did.  
Rage wracked through him for a moment, but he let it go. He couldn't push. If he pushed, he might fuck this whole thing up.  
At least, that's why he told himself he didn't ask.

* * *

"Forgive me?"  
The words sounded so foreign coming from him. Lydia guessed that he didn't say them often, the way that they fell clumsily out of his mouth. She would have smiled, if the situation had been different.  
"I… I do. I wasn't ready, anyway. Not really."  
She jutted her jaw out, lower lip trembling, and forced herself to stay in the present. Taking slow, deep breaths, she wasn't sure what her next move should be. A stray tear betrayed her, slipping down her cheek. She gasped when she felt his cold finger wipe away her tear and looked up at him, her dark eyes shimmering.  
She watched him carefully, wondering what he was going to do next. After a few moments, he crushed her to him.

* * *

_Care be damned, this girl needs a hug._  
He couldn't stop himself. The poor thing looked like she'd been through a lot.  
_Maybe I should leave her alone…_  
Her big beautiful eyes caught his, though, and he felt his chest tighten. He pulled away from her, rubbing the back of his neck absently.  
_I'm so in over my head._

* * *

Lydia stood for a minute, watching the poltergeist rub his neck and avoid making eye contact. She wondered what that was about. In fact, she wondered what all of this was about.  
She knew he was experienced. He had to be. When she first met him-- _a few hours ago_ , she reminded herself-- he was smoking on the balcony of a fucking brothel!  
"Why?" The question slipped out before Lydia could stop it. She felt heat rise in her cheeks when he finally caught her eye.  
"Why what, Babes?"  
"Why are you being so nice to me? Why not… When you were already… And you have… with the brothel…" Lydia couldn't finish any of her sentences, but she hoped he understood her sentiment.

* * *

Betelgeuse could fill in the blanks, and he did. He looked down on the tiny model town, the smoky, red brothel shining like a beacon from where it stood. He hadn't really looked at it before, but now, he realized how out of place it looked. It was almost comical.  
Almost.  
He turned back Lydia, her big eyes baring into his very soul, and wondered if he should lie to her.  
A moral tug of war exploded in his brain and, after a long silence, he finally decided to give her some of the truth. He found that, for the first time in his life, at least his Afterlife, lying would make him feel grimy, but he didn't want to scare her away.  
He told himself that he had to play nice, that he had to win her trust. She had to enter the marriage of her own free will.  
Even as he thought these things, he felt a pang in his cold, dead chest. _That's not the only reason you don't wanna tell her._

* * *

Lydia stood,waiting, as Betelgeuse fought for words. Her patience was wearing thin; she couldn't understand why he even spoke to her in the first place. Then, with the kiss, the game at dinner, the gentle touch… She was getting confused.  
"I saw ya celebratin' yer birthday all alone."  
Lydia was taken aback. She expected something more complex, more nuanced, than 'I felt bad for you'. Her heart skipped a beat and her face fell. Betelgeuse ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes.  
"An', well, I… When ya didn't run off at tha sight o' me, I thought… well, I thought we could be friends."  
_Friends don't kiss friends like you kissed me._  
Her cheeks reddened and she lowered her eyes, focusing on the poltergeist's dingy boots.

* * *

Betelgeuse found himself rambling a bit. He didn't know how to explain to Lydia that he hadn't meant to kiss her. Not really. He just couldn't seem to stop himself.  
And that game at dinner? He knew that _had_ to be on her mind. He couldn't even explain that one to himself. He just had to see her, to touch her.  
If he wasn't careful, this marriage might not be a sham.  
He followed her gaze to his boots. He hadn't changed them in well over 2 centuries, but, for some reason, her scrutiny made him feel self-conscious.  
He shook his head hard, trying to shake the emotion loose. It rattled in his brain, though, and he couldn't help himself. He flicked his finger and shiny, new dress shoes replaced his ragged boots. At that moment, he got an idea.  
Flicking his fingers again, Lydia gasped, looking down. He had to admire his handiwork.  
A floor length, blood red dress hugged her curves, dipping low in the front and donning a long slit up to her hip on one side. Her long raven hair was elegantly swept up from her neck, a few locks left to dangle tastefully over her shoulders. Her makeup was dark, beautifully contrasting with her skin.  
Betelgeuse drank her in, cursing himself. He really had to be more careful if he was gonna pull this whole marriage thing off. He couldn’t help but notice the deep blush forming on her cheeks. If he kept making her blush like that, the red might stick around forever. He chuckled, low, and moved closer to her.

* * *

Lydia didn’t know what she had been expecting, but the dress she wore was not it. She felt completely on display, though most of her body was, in fact, covered. She curled in on herself a little when she saw Betelgeuse admiring her. She didn’t know what to do. Heat flared in her face-- _again_ \-- and she wondered if it were possible to get a sunburn from your own blood.  
Betelgeuse stepped closer to her and she swooned. She couldn’t believe herself. She’d actually _swooned_ like in one of those crazy romance/drama movies Delia was always watching.  
Lydia watched Betelgeuse’s every move, wondering what was going through his mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he still wasn’t telling her something. She wondered if it were something she wanted to even know. Was he comparing her to one of the whores from that brothel? Was he comparing her to some long-lost love? Did she really even care if he was?  
From the looks of it, he was just interested in her. She smiled to herself. _Only a few hours, Lydia Deetz. You have to be more careful than this._  
Lydia sighed, knowing that voice in her head was right, like it normally ended up being. She just didn’t want to admit it.  
Betelgeuse stepped closer, his eyes locked onto her. She thought she saw something there, something… _animal_. She didn’t know for sure, but she thought he might have been lying before about wanting their first time to be perfect. She just couldn’t figure out why he had lied. He obviously was… _experienced_ in this particular activity and he seemed to enjoy the prospect of it.  
Why else would the game have ensued? Why else would he have put her in this dress?  
She wished she could come up with straight answers to any of the multitude of questions banging around in her head, but she couldn't help but unravel under his gaze. She didn’t know what she should do, so she stood still, letting him come to her.  
“Ya look good enuff ta eat.”  
The gruff voice caught her by surprise and the words really didn’t help matters much. She felt surreal; the whole scene seemed to burn at the edges.  
“I wish you would try.”  
Lydia’s own voice scared her more than anything that had happened that night. Why had she said that? What did she mean?  
She had no freaking clue. She felt a fit of giggles rise in her throat, a nervous tactic, and swallowed them down barely in time.  
Betelgeuse stopped his pursuit of her; his eyes growing dark. The animalistic quality was heightened. Lydia took a deep breath and waited for whatever was going to come next.

* * *

“Ya look good enuff ta eat.”  
He wanted to kick himself over that sentence. It was one he didn’t mind using and he particularly liked the way it made her look at him, but he really had to play this slow. Had to get her to marry him first.  
Or he would never be free.  
“I wish you would try.”  
Lydia’s voice took him by surprise. She hadn’t said anything since he put her in the dress. Her words, however, caused him to nearly lose his cool. He had to stop inching toward her, stop moving all together. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from her. He wanted to take her up on that offer, to feel her pulse beneath his lips, to have her warmth envelop him…  
He had to stop. He was gonna go too far if he didn’t. He swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. The world was already spinning around him before she opened her pretty little mouth.  
_No, no, Beet. You gotta play nice. Play by the rules._ He sighed. _Even if you can’t remember why right now._  
He knew he was right. Why hadn’t he read that whole passage? He guessed it was because the idea of a breather fallin’ for him, at least enough to get hitched and consummate the marriage, seemed so foreign. Out of place. He had no idea what was happening to him.  
Or why this beautiful woman standing in front of him even wanted him.  
He could tell she did. It was in the way she squirmed, the way her sentences seemed to become more and more breathless when she was near him, the way she tried to be bold.  
“Lyds, ya can’t say stuff like that,” his voice was coarse and he took another step toward her, “‘Specially when ya look like that.”  
He saw her eyes flicker up, meeting his, and it was too late.  
_Play nice._  
He held himself back from what he _really_ wanted, but couldn’t stop himself from kissing her. His mouth once again enveloping hers, reveling in her heat and, somehow, growing dizzy by her taste. He pressed her back, keeping one hand on the small of her back to prevent her from falling over and searching for the dust old couch the Maitlands left up here.  
When he found it, he pressed her back into it, refusing to break their kiss.  
His hand found the slit in her dress and, as he ran his hand up her leg, leaving gooseflesh in his wake, he was rudely interrupted.  
_PLAY NICE, YA BASTERD. I DON’ WANNA SPENT THE REST OF MY AFTERLIFE HOPIN’ FER SOM’UN TO SUMMON ME JUST CAUSE YOU CAN’T KEEP IT IN YER GAWDAMMED PANTS._  
He winced in pain, the yelling in his head feeling like it was going to split him in two. He nipped at Lydia’s bottom lip, considering what he was telling himself.  
_Ya know, ya could fuck ‘er now and be stuck for all ‘ternity, or ya could wait until yer married and be able to fuck ‘er any time ya wanna._  
The voice made a very persuasive argument. Just hang around, keep it in his pants, long enough to get hitched. _So long as she was the one he was gettin’ hitched to._  
He pulled away from Lydia, pushing that thought far from his head. He couldn’t actually have feelings for this girl, could he?  
He looked down at her and realized all of this arguing in his head must’ve made him look like a lunatic. Just leaning over the top of her and not letting her breathe. He pulled back, the girl whimpering as he pushed himself away from her.  
_How am I ever gonna pull this off?_

* * *

“Lyds, ya can’t say stuff like that. ‘Specially when ya look like that.”  
Lydia’s flesh crawled under his gaze. She forced herself to look up, to meet his gaze. His eyes were wild and violently green; his face somehow seemed paler than she’d ever seen it.  
The moment she met his eyes, he raced toward her. The Poltergeist swept her into his arms in one swift motion, his mouth on hers. She gasped, slightly, allowing him entrance into her mouth. He took it, continuing to push her backwards.  
She let out a “hmmph” when he pushed her back on the couch, but didn’t try to pull away. She peeked out at him, her vision beginning to go black, and watched as his hand found its way to her thigh. She sighed against the cool touch, pressing her leg into his hand.  
After a few moments, she realized he seemed distracted. She peeked out at him, once again, and he seemed to be having some mixed feelings. Maybe he was arguing with himself? She couldn’t be sure, but she knew she _liked_ the way he chewed her lip while he was lost in thought. It did give her a chance to breathe though, for which she was grateful.  
She let air into her burning lungs, idly wondering what Betelgeuse was thinking. He pulled back suddenly and she let out an involuntary whimper as he stopped touching her. He was up, away from the couch, just staring at her.  
“It’s okay!” She murmured as she sat up. “It can wait. I can wait.”

* * *

Betelgeuse groaned hearing her repeat his words back to him. _It will haveta wait._ He admitted to himself, grumpily. He watched her, though, as she made her way off the couch and across the room. He felt electricity come off of her like she was a live wire and he wondered just how much of this waiting thing he could take.  
“Babes, it’s gettin’ kinda late, innit?”  
Betelgeuse checked his watch. She nodded, not taking her eyes from his. She was looking for something, he was sure of it. He just didn’t know what. With a flick of his finger, she stood before him exactly as she was when he first saw her.  
_As good as that dress looked,_ he admitted to himself, _I much prefer this look._

* * *

“Babes, it’s gettin’ kinda late, innit?”  
Lydia searched Betelgeuse’s eyes for a moment, trying to decipher his meaning. Did he not want her to stay here? Did he want to go back to the model? What should she do? What did he want?  
A moment later, she stood, her legs bare and hair down in messy waves. Just as she had been when she first came up here.  
“Do you want me to leave?” Lydia finally mustered the courage to ask him. If he kept kissing her like he had been, there was no way she was gonna be able to just leave it at ‘friends’.  
“Not if ya don’t wanna, Babes.”  
She didn’t want to, but she was worried the Maitlands might come looking for her if she stayed up here too much longer. She stepped past Betelgeuse, ready to descend back into her normal life.  
“Before ya go, Lyds,” Betelgeuse caught her arm, pulling her close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath, “Could ya tell me where that tattoo is hidden? I’m _dyin’_ ta know.”  
Lydia smiled, a newfound rush of confidence sizzling in her veins.  
“You’re just gonna have to imagine it.” Lydia’s voice was huskier than normal, probably because the idea of being sexy was such a new and unexplored concept for her, but she pushed through it. “If you’re good, I might even show it to you sometime.”  
Lydia kissed him on the cheek and opened the heavy attic door, leaning against it and taking a few deep breaths before making her way to her room. Once there, she got changed in record time, brushed her teeth, and laid on her bed, thinking about Betelgeuse.

* * *

“You’re just gonna have to imagine it. If you’re good, I might even show it to you sometime.”  
Lydia’s voice sounded more breathy than before; she seemed uncertain of her words, and, yet, they did a number on the poltergeist. Betelgeuse felt something thump in his chest (it couldn’t have been his heart; it’d stopped beating, stopped reacting, centuries ago) and a smile spread slowly across his face. _I s’pose, if I am gonna get married, I couldn’ta picked a better woman._  
He heard her on the other side of the door, taking deep and measured breaths. He smirked, knowing that was some a his doin’. He turned back to the scale model of the town and, for the first time in his afterlife, he didn’t want to go to Dante’s.  
He couldn’t imagine touching another woman, living or dead, now that he’d held Lydia close to him.  
_Gotta be careful. That almost sounded like love._  
He sneered at the voice in his head. He didn’t want to admit that it was right, though. Instead, he came up with a multitude of reasons he didn’t wanna touch anybody. The top of his list, though, was that he needed to find that old book he read and get some more information about this marriage deal. He needed to know exactly what he was getting himself into.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some boring bull*hit legalise that I made up on the fly, so please don't get too offended if I got anything wrong... Though, since I made it up, I don't know how it could be wrong haha

The moment Lydia's head hit the pillows, a wave of unnerving regret washed over her. A multitude of 'what if's and 'I should have's screamed through her head. She felt so _stupid_. She didn't know much about Betelgeuse, but she could imagine that he had some ulterior motive.  
Just look at the way the Maitlands refused to tell her what happened.  
_And I still kissed him._  
She hugged herself, curling into a tight ball as a tear slipped down her cheek. Just how alone was she-- that some perverted ghost in her attic could seduce her so easily?  
Even now, with the fear and regret and _shame_ that she felt, she still ached for him to hold her.  
He couldn't be all bad, could he?

* * *

Betelgeuse sat in one of the Maitlands dusty, cloth covered chairs, a cigarette hanging from his lips, as he read through that old book that told him how to get out.  
"Both parties must enter the union of their own free will, stating such in front of a Master of Scarimonies. The union must take place under the light of the full moon and must be willingly consummated within one year, to the moment, of the wedding.  
"At the time of the union, the deceased party must partake of the living party's blood to seal the contract. The amount of blood consumed cannot be less than three drops nor more than 3 ounces.  
"Either party has the free will to break the union by reciting, without hesitation and in clear terms, the wish for the union to be dissolved, so long as this recitation occurs prior to the moment of consummation."  
_Do all the books on this side read like stereo instructions?_  
Betelgeuse was growing frustrated with his reading, flicking his cigarette and watching the ash scatter throughout the empty attic. But he still read on.  
"The living party, upon consummation of the marriage, will be granted the right to summon the deceased party at their own will, calling the deceased party's name thrice in order to do so, as well as immortality from illnesses and aging effects. The living party may still be hurt or die by any item listed in Neitherworld Death Stipulations, Article 5.  
"If either the living party were to die or the deceased party were to be sent to the Lost Souls room, the marriage contract will remain intact, meaning that the parties will remain married, but all powers will be rescinded: the living party's immortality and summoning ability as well as the deceased party's freedom from Neitherworld regulations."  
_So, I'm still gonna be summoned after all this is over? Forever?_  
Betelgeuse froze at that thought. The only reason he even wanted to go through with this was to get his freedom. Did he really wanna lose it to that little, raven-haired minx?  
His eyes grazed the page lazily as he considered his options.  
He heard someone call his name and turned his attention to the small version of Dante's in the model.  
"Beetle, Baby!"  
He recognized that voice, but decided to ignore her in favor of the book in his hands.  
"The living party and the deceased party, upon declaration of intent to be married, must abstain from this moment until the marriage contract is signed. Only then may the deceased party gain their freedom from the Neitherworld and its restrictions.  
"If one party does not abstain, the remaining party will be granted the right to dissolve the marriage, by the allowance of the Neitherworld Marriage Rights Act, Article 7, Section G, Subsection VI.3."  
"Beetle?" The voice hitched, drawing out the word as much as possible before ending in a slight up-turn. Betelgeuse looked up, seeing that Cherry, the woman from the model version of Dante's, was leaning over the ledge.  
"What?" The sharp, one-syllable answer was completely out of character for Betelgeuse, causing the woman to flinch.  
"We… I just missed ya," the woman replied, not trying to sound too hurt, "When we gonna get together again?"  
Betelgeuse sighed, placing his cigarette butt in the book to mark the page, and strode over to the model, his eyes glowing a deep shade of yellow. He bent down so that he was on eye level.  
"Cancha see I'm busy?" He growled, his breath nearly knocking the woman off the balcony. She didn't respond, dumbstruck by his disposition. He had never turned her down before.  
"I… I guess…" Cherry whispered, her false accent falling from her words, "I just thought, since we always have so much fun…"  
"I'm gonna say this once, Cherry," his voice rumbled.  
Cherry, again, was dumbstruck. He never called her by her name, usually opting for nicknames like "Sugartits". She stayed very quiet, a part of her genuinely scared of him. She knew he was worth the sheer terror most people looked at him with, but he had never even spoken harshly to her… before now.  
"I am busy. I don't know when I'm gonna be not busy." His face was more stoic than Cherry had ever seen it. "And I don't think I'm gonna… no, I don't _wanna_ see ya again."  
Cherry's eyes widened and she rushed back inside, causing Betelgeuse to smirk to himself. Turning back to the chair, he conjured up another cigarette and settled in, determined to finish his reading.

* * *

In the cold, unyielding light of day, Lydia was forced to come to terms with the happenings of her birthday. Her lips tingled as she remembered Betelgeuse's kiss, but she forced that thought from her mind, determined to figure out what her next move was.  
She had spent much of the previous night thinking of a plan of action. She needed to know why he kissed her, why he wanted to be her friend, and, most importantly, what his ulterior motive was. She was quite pleased with her current plan, thinking that it might help her to see through some of the bullshit and make up her own mind about Betelgeuse.  
She was gonna befriend him. Hang out with him, watch movies with him, study for tests with him-- do all the things that friends do-- and gauge his reaction. If he truly wished to be her friend, it wouldn't bother him too much.  
She was also not gonna stop his attention. If he wanted to kiss her, hug her, _touch_ her, then she would let him. That was fine. But anything beyond touching was a no-go. She had to set boundaries. With some granted… _freedoms_.  
Thank the gods today was a Sunday so she could test the waters on this whole 'being friends' thing. She pulled a black, oversized sweater on, remembering the chill she felt the day before, and pulled some black tights on as a sort of after-thought. She didn't worry with shoes or make-up and pulled her hair into a high, messy bun, leaving her bangs and a few strands of hair around her face loose, framing her delicate features.  
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sighed, wishing for that blood-red gown he had shown her the day before. After yesterday's events, today just felt so… _normal_.  
And, if there was one thing that Lydia Deetz was not, it was normal.  
Taking one last steadying breath, she bounded up the stairs as quietly as she could, not wanting to alert the Maitlands and also not wanting to take too much time. She had a friend to visit.

* * *

Betelgeuse had been at it for hours. After Cherry's little stunt, he found himself growing restless. He did want companionship, just not from her. He missed Lydia.  
_I'm gonna fuckin' tear up. The Beetle's got **feelin's**._  
He growled under his breath, urging the voice in his head to just _shut up_ and leave him be. Growing frustrated with the noise coming from Dante's, he clapped his hands, sending it, and all its patrons, back to the Neitherworld. The idle curiosity of why everyone in the Neitherworld didn't just bag themselves a breather tugged at the back of his mind, but he ignored it.  
Just as he was about to settle back into the chair and take another crack at the book, a timid knock caught his attention. He went to the attic door, pulling it open, and seeing a very lovely Lydia standing sheepishly in front of him.  
"Why'd'a knock, kid? 'S yer attic," Betelgeuse couldn't help cracking a smile at her.  
"I just wanted to be sure you weren't with anyone." Lydia's flippant response contrasted her previous demeanor. Where she had stood timidly, worried, she suddenly appeared calm and in control.  
Betelgeuse's face showed his confusion.  
"Nah," he mumbled, feeling off his guard for a moment. "Who'd I even hang out with 'sides you?"  
Lydia rolled her eyes and pointed to the model, mouthing the word 'brothel' very clearly. Betelgeuse smirked and urged her to look at where she was pointing.  
"It's gone." Surprise touched Lydia's voice for a moment before she spoke again. "Get bored with the whores?"  
"'Bout 6 centuries ago." Betelgeuse couldn't imagine that this was the same young woman from yesterday. She seemed so much more comfortable. He decided to roll with it, see where she took him.  
"Whacha wanna do today, Babes?"

* * *

Lydia felt a flash of uncertainty the moment her hand touched the door handle, opting for knocking first. It just didn't feel right to burst in on him.  
The moment she knocked, she regretted it. She considered turning back, her resolve breaking, but, then, the door swung open to reveal a mildly disheveled Betelgeuse.  
Lydia stopped for a moment, taking him in. He was dressed in the same clothes from before ( _Do ghosts ever change clothes?_ ) and looked a little annoyed.  
"Why'd'a knock, kid? 'S yer attic." Betelgeuse smiled down at her, causing her breath to get caught in her throat. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before she responded.  
"I just wanted to be sure you weren't with anyone." Her voice sounded much more calm and collected than she felt inside, but she kept herself steady, stepping inside.  
"Who'd I even hang out with 'sides you?"  
That question threw Lydia for a moment. He made it sound like she was his only friend in the world.  
She took a step forward, keeping herself steady, and pointed at the model, staring through him.  
'Brothel', she mouthed, searching him for a response. He smirked, pointing at the model, himself. She turned to look, only to find the brothel missing. In its place stood 'Maitland's Hardware'. This caused her to stumble for a moment, murmuring "It's gone."  
"Get bored with your whores?" She picked herself back up from that stumble and pushed forward, hoping to elicit a response.  
"'Bout 6 centuries ago."  
Lydia gaped at that admission, realizing that the poltergeist was much older than she previously thought. He seemed like he came from the '70s, not the Renaissance. She didn't show her surprise, though, and waited for his next move.  
"Whacha wanna do today, Babes?"  
She thought about it for a moment, reminding herself of her rules, before responding.  
"I suppose," she drew out the words for effect, "we could just, I dunno, hang out? What do friends do?"  
Betegeuse chuckled at her question.  
"Lyds, I have no fuckin' idea."

* * *

Betelgeuse smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. She actually _wanted_ to try this 'friend' thing. It took him a moment to get used to the idea, uncertainty mocking from within his brain.  
Was he sure he wanted to be tied down to this girl? Was his freedom truly freedom if he was at her beck and call? If her life ended, his freedom would go out the fuckin' door. Did he really wanna give her that kind of control?  
Lydia sauntered over the the ratty couch that played a key feature in their… 'getting to know you' activities yesterday. Betelgeuse stifled a laugh at that thought and followed, trying to not get to close.  
She sat down on one end of the couch, pulling her legs up and leaning onto the arm, propping her head on her knuckles.  
Betelgeuse smirked, following her lead, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, his legs crossed in front of him and his back to the arm. This position allowed him to get a full look at Lydia, his eyes raking ever her body, thinking of all the things he could do to her.  
_Get a fuckin' grip, man. Ya gotta at least figure out if yer gonna marry the girl. Do ya want that freedom or not?_  
Betelgeuse hissed internally, cursing the voice in his head, reminding himself that his freedom would come with _stipulations_.  
"How's about we ask each other questions?" Betelgeuse was taken aback by his own suggestion. _Is this really a good idea?_  
Lydia looked at him, thoughtful for a moment, and grinned."I think that's a great idea. Ask me something?"  
"Uh…" Beej was taken aback, not really certain why he had suggested this in the first place. "Why'd ya move here?"  
"Honestly?" Lydia paused, gathering her thoughts. "Couldn't take the Big City. My dad moved us out here to give us… me… some breathing room."  
Betelgeuse thought that there might be more to that story, but he didn't wanna push, trying to keep this at least kinda light-hearted.  
"Why'd you get bored of the whores?"

* * *

Lydia's question surprised her. She had planned on asking him why he spoke to her yesterday, the truth of it, but at the last second, this question slipped out.  
"They all got the same three tricks and the same fake tits." Betelgeuse responded with a devilish grin. "Why'd ya wanna know?"  
"Is that your question?" Lydia's cheeks flushed, but she kept her voice steady.  
"Yeah."  
"If we're gonna be friends, Beej," Lydia tried the nickname, "I think I should get to know who else you're around. Shouldn't I?"  
"I don't know." Beej beamed. "Guess so. Was that your question?"  
"No." Lydia smirked, knowing he would ask that. "Why'd you really talk to me?"  
"Told ya, it was yer birthday, you're cute, and I was lonely. It really isn't rocket science. Why'd you talk to me?"  
Lydia's eyes flickered mischeviously. "It was my birthday, I was bored, and you talked to me first."  
"Aw, so ya don't think I'm cute?" Betelgeuse feigned a frown, mocking her.  
"Is that your question?" Lydia's eyes flashed again, a devilish grin, mimicking his own, spreading across her face.  
"Ya know, yeah. Why the fuck not?"  
"Yeah. I do. That's why I let you kiss me." Lydia smirked, hoping to take the poltergeist by surprise.  
"An' here I was thinkin' it was 'coz you were bored."  
Her little tactic hadn't worked, she realized, scrunching her nose slightly.  
"Why'd you kiss me?" Lydia asked after taking a moment to collect herself.

* * *

Betelgeuse hadn't expected Lydia to be so in control. He really thought he had knocked her off with that 'do you think I'm cute' thing. When she didn't even blink, Been knew he was gonna have to take it up a notch on his next question. He had to have the upper hand, had to knock her off-balance. He felt so… _wrong_ being on a level playing field.  
Then, she asked the one question Betelgeuse truly didn't know the answer to. "Why'd you kiss me?"  
He took a pause, thinking about it for a moment. "I guess I just wanted to."  
That might have been the first 'no-bullshit' time he had ever answered that question that way.  
"Bullshit." Lydia bore her large eyes into him. "There had to be another reason."  
"Well, we had _just_ played a teasin' game. Maybe I just needed ta let out that frustration."  
Lydia paused, a blush creeping up her neck. She kept her eyes trained on him, though.  
"Why did we play that game?"  
"Uh-uh; 's my turn." Beej smirked, finally having her taken aback. He took a moment to think about his next question, his taloned finger tapping on his chin. "Why didn't ya scream? When ya saw me? Or when I kissed ya? Or when I put you on this very couch and felt ya up?"  
The blush encompassed Lydia's entire face at his last words.  
"I dunno." Her voice came out soft and hitched, embarrassment dripping from every word.  
"'S not how this game works, Lyds," Beej leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and repeated his question. "Why didn't ya scream?"

* * *

Lydia wished she had been better prepared for this type of question. She hadn't even thought of it as a possibility. Her cheeks were certainly gonna be chapped if she didn't get a handle on her embarrassment-- and fast. She took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to recollect herself. When she reopened her eyes, she felt much more calm, less embarrassed. _You can do this._  
"I liked it," Lydia responded as nonchalantly as she could, taking this time to twist a loose strand of hair around her finger. "Why? Did you want me to scream?"

* * *

_In more ways than one, baby girl._  
Fuck. He really had to get control of himself. He guessed that he could, technically, take his frustrations out on her before declaring that he was gonna marry her, but something about her seemed so… special. She deserved better than that. Hell, he was already planning on using her for his freedom. Did he really want to stick it to the poor thing and use her for his sexual pleasures, too?  
_Hell yeah._  
The voice in his head spoke up, forcing him to come to terms with his own feelings.  
_But she deserves better. I gotta wait until we're married. I already knew I was gonna marry her before I even kissed her, eternally at her whim or not. She's the one. She's my ticket to freedom. It can't be anyone else. I won't choose anyone else_  
He sneered at himself for two reasons: one- because he was talking back to that shit-for-brains voice that was always annoyin' him and two- because admitted to havin' some kinda feelin's for the girl.  
_Finally. I thought you would never admit it._  
_Fuck off. Doesn't make this marriage any less of a ploy to get my freedom._  
"Nah," Betelgeuse finally answered Lydia's question, "just curious."

* * *

The silence that came over Beej confused and fascinated Lydia. He seemed to be having an internal argument and she loved the ways his face contorted as he did so.  
His eyebrows raised even as his eyes themselves narrowed and his jaw set. To anyone outside of the conversation, as Lydia was, it looked like he was getting really pissed with himself. She stifled a laugh and waited for his answer.  
"Nah, just curious."  
"Are you sure?" Lydia leaned toward him with a newfound confidence. She rested her hands on his thighs, just above his knees. "Maybe I woulda liked screaming for you."  
Betelgeuse grabbed Lydia's wrists. "I thought we were doin' that whole 'friend' thing." His voice came out breathy and gruff, making Lydia smirk.  
"I was just fuckin' with ya." She pulled her hands free and sat back, her back resting against the arm of the chair.  
"Why'd you wanna be my friend?"

* * *

When Lydia's hands hit his legs, Beej's cold, dead heart leapt. He couldn't explain it, but he felt it. He thought it had stopped beating ages ago.  
"Maybe I woulda liked screaming for you."  
_Baby girl, if you keep talking like that, you're gonna be._  
It took Betelgeuse a moment to respond, but he grabbed her wrists, preventing himself from looking into her eyes. He wouldn't have been able to help himself if he did. And something told him that, once he got a taste, there would be no out. He wouldn't be able to stop. Nah, he needed to wait. He had to wait.  
"I thought we were doin' that whole 'friend' thing." His voice came out more breathy than he intended, for which he cursed himself, but the sentiment was still there.  
"I was just fuckin' with ya."  
Lydia pulled out of his grasp, which wasn't hard. He was too busy marveling over her pulse. Somehow, he forgot that she was gonna have one. And when he felt it, he knew he still had some cards left in this game.  
"Why'd you wanna be my friend?"  
"Loneliness. Boredom. You were cute. Take your pick." Betelgeuse picked at his nails. "Why'd ya come up here today?"  
"Because," Lydia drew out the word, throwing her head back for dramatic effect, "You're my friend and I wanted to see you."  
Betelgeuse chucked at her reaction. "Alright, your turn. Make it a good one."

* * *

"Why did we play that game?" Lydia ventured back to her previous question, which she realized had never gotten answered. She kept her eyes on the ceiling, tracing a spiderweb with her mind. She wished she had thought about bringing her Polaroid up here, again. She would just have to remember next time.  
"I was bored. You were cute. It was fun." Betelgeuse leaned forward, pressing his hands into her thighs. She gasped, but kept her eyes carefully trained on the spiderweb, having prepared herself for this moment.  
"C'mon, Babes, lookit me." Beej leaned forward even further practically kissing her chin. He settled back a bit as her dark eyes came down to meet his.  
"Bullshit." Her voice was barely a whisper. Her heart pounded in her chest.  
"I liked ya. Thought it would be fun."  
She smiled. "Was it?"

* * *

Betelgeuse was so lost in reprimanding himself that it didn't register that she asked him two questions in a row. He needed to be more careful. He squeezed her warm thighs in his hands, feeling her heart beat faster as he did so.  
"Fuck _yeah_ ," he murmured, letting his hands slide up her legs a bit before pulling away. He immediately missed her warmth.  
"Wait, that was two questions in a row!" He finally caught on. "'S not fair!"  
Lydia laughed, her chest heaving. It was a real, genuine laugh. No bullshit. He wondered when the last time she had actually laughed was. He settled in.  
"Now I get ta ask ya two questions."

* * *

Lydia scoffed, pouting. "But you didn't have to answer the last one if you didn't want to!"  
"Doesn't matter, Babes, I did. Now, what should I ask?" Beej tapped his chin, feining pensiveness. "What d'ya do fer fun?"  
"Photography. Write." Lydia leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Kiss you."  
Beej looked at her in shock. She reveled in it, loving the feeling of him being at a loss for words. She got the feeling that it didn't happen to him too often and, yet, here he was, without words for a second time.  
"I like kissin' ya, too." Beej leaned forward, his voice sending chills down Lydia's spine. "Wanna do it again?"  
"Is that your question?" Lydia closed her eyes, shifting her weight forward so that she was leaning on his legs.  
"Yeah." Beej wrapped his hand behind her head. "What d'ya say?"  
"Yes." With that, Betelgeuse's mouth crashed into hers, pushing her backward onto the arm of the couch. She gasped at the sudden intensity of the motion, allowing him access. He took it, pushing his tongue into her mouth without preamble, licking the roof of her mouth gently, teasingly. She responded with a slight moan and his tongue abandoned the roof of her mouth to wrap around her own, massaging it.  
Lydia thought it felt very much like the boa constrictor she held when she was younger, gently trying to squeeze the life out of her.  
Beej's hand found her hair, gripping tightly on the bun, like it was the only thing saving him from floating away.  
Just like that, the kiss ended. Beej pulled away, a deep, animalistic hunger shading his eyes, and sat back. Lydia pouted for a moment, missing the contact. She pulled herself together quickly, though.  
"Yer turn!" Beej said, brightly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****TRIGGER WARNING****  
> Mentions of and allusions to suicide and self-harm. 
> 
> So, I was gonna apologize it took me so long to update, but I realized that it has only been like a day and a half, so I decided that apologizing didn't make much sense.  
> I promise the story will continue on; no big plot stuff happens in this chapter, but I really wanted to build the relationship between Beej and Lydia.

"Hmmm…" Lydia cocked her head to one side, trying to figure out what else she should ask the poltergeist. She had so many questions about the afterlife that Barbara and Adam were always too reluctant to answer. _Fuck it, why not?_  
"What's it like there? The other side?" Lydia locked her eyes on Betelgeuse, trying to decipher every movement he made. He shuffled under her gaze for a moment, sliding so that he was facing away from her.  
"'S _awfully_ boring," he finally conceded, meeting her eyes. "Same three tricks, same fake tits, and no other real way to pass the time."  
Lydia wasn't too surprised by his answer, but she did press forward.  
"Barbara and Adam won't tell me anything about it. I just figured, ya know, since you've been…" Lydia paused, not wanting to offend the ghost. "... around longer, you might know more."  
"Ain't much ta tell. I told ya." His eyes locked with hers. "'S borin' as fuck an' all ya really ever do is wanna get _out_. But, I guess, if ya really wanna know, yucan read this."  
With a flick of Beej's fingers, a book presented itself squarely in Lydia's lap.  
"Handbook for the Recently Deceased." Lydia mused over the title, running her palm over the book's cover. It seemed old, older than any book she had ever seen, but the outer cover was anything but delicate. Her hand scraped over the words, leaving a stinging sensation in her palm.  
"Ow!" She pulled her hand back to find it dripping blood. Betelgeuse jumped into action the moment he heard her speak.

* * *

"Ya gotta be more careful." Betelgeuse's voice came out a little harsher than he expected, but he had no time to think about that. He placed his palms around her injured hand, catching her blood to keep it from spilling on the book.  
His hands glowed a sharp color of green, warming hers between them. It must've hurt her, though, because she tried to pull her hand free before the green glow dissipated. He held firm, not allowing her to pull away until he was done.  
"Better?" Betelgeuse huffed, allowing Lydia to pull her burning hand to her chest and cradle it. Her eyes flashed with anger, not even taking notice that he had healed her hand.  
"Wh…"  
"Can't spill blood on that book, Lyds. It'll suck the life right outta ya," Betelgeuse interrupted her before she could even get a word out. Lydia's eyes fell to her hand, drawing back to the book, then back to Betelgeuse's face, searching for some answer.  
"Dunno why it happens." Betelgeuse answered, conjuring himself a cigarette. "Musta been somethin' they thought up to keep us from just leavin' those lyin' around anywhere."  
He flicked his pinkie from his palm, causing it to spark a small flame which he then used to light his cigarette. Pinkie still aflame, he used his other hand to pull another cigarette from thin air, offering it to Lydia. She took it, hands slightly trembling, with wide eyes. He couldn't tell if she was awestruck by his magic or unnerved by the book in her lap as she pressed the cigarette between her teeth. He leaned over and offered her the light from his pinkie.

* * *

Lydia puffed the cigarette gently, mulling over the book and its contents. She wondered if she really wanted to be in possession of something that had the power to kill someone so easily.  
Letting out the smoke in a stiff and gentle stream, she coughed.  
"Fuckin' menthol?" She curled her lips into a sneer and crinkled her nose. She hadn't even thought about what kind of cigarette he would offer her.  
"Ya don't like it?" Betelgeuse flicked his wrist. "Try it now."  
Lydia took a tentative puff, confused and really not wanting to feel that same cool sensation she had felt before. Gone was the minty, clean flavor, a more robust and harsher flavor in its place.  
"Better," she nodded.  
"Why…"  
"Ah, ah, ah," Betelgeuse interrupted her again, "'S my turn."  
Lydia sighed and waited for him to speak again. After a few moments, she decided she had to break the silence.  
"Beej," she whispered the nickname, still unsure if he liked it. When he glanced her way, she continued. "I need an ashtray."

* * *

Betelgeuse smirked at the request. _Of course she'd be too damned polite to just let her ash fall anywhere._ With a crook of one finger, a black, ceramic skull with the crown cut off appeared at her side. He chuckled when she murmured a thanks.  
"'S no problem." He felt sweat beading on his brow. _What the fuck is happening?_  
He thought back to the last time he was out of the Neitherworld for this long. Usually, he pulled something along with him to keep him tethered to the Neitherworld and allow him to use his magic, full-force. When he sent Dante's away, he must've broken the connection.  
He really didn't wanna bring that filth back, 'specially around Lydia, who really didn't need to hear whatever the fuck Cherry was gonna say about him. He couldn't go ruinin' his prospects when he had finally found someone he was willin' to marry.  
Lydia didn't seem to notice his inner dialogue. She was running her fingers over the skull, fiddling with its ruby eyes and crooked teeth, and smiling to herself.  
_Nah, best not to let her even know I'm havin' any issues,_ he thought to himself. _'N I really don't want her comin' in contact with any a them asshats that'll tell her to stay away from me._  
"What did ol' Four Eyes and Babs haveta say 'bout me?" Betelgeuse finally asked his question.

* * *

"You were there," Lydia responded, pulling her attention away from the ashtray. "You heard them."  
"You didn't talk to them again?" Betelgeuse looked taken aback.  
"I mean, kinda. They told me that I should stay away from you, that you were bad news." Lydia looked over at him. "And that you were a monster who would do anything to get what he wanted."  
Lydia had barely spoken to the Maitlands before she went to bed the previous night, but she remembered every word they said. She caught his eye just in time for his next question.  
"Why didn't ya listen ta 'em?"

* * *

Betelgeuse was internally cursing the Maitlands and thinking of various ways he could torture them both. Peeling skin didn't even seem worthy of what he felt like doin' to them. He had to keep his cool, though, if he really wanted to make this whole thing work with her. She seemed to be attached to those dead losers and he had to stay on her good side.  
_At the very least, until I marry her._  
A part of him grimaced at the concept that she wouldn't want anything to do with him once this whole marriage thing was done, but he knew he had to get her to fuck him at least once after the wedding. He knew, though, that if he could make her trust him, _really_ trust him, before they ever got to the wedding, then he might stand a chance.  
_And I wanna be her friend, at the very least. I do like her, I jus' dunno if that's enough ta make me wanna keep hangin' 'round once this whole marriage takes. Once my **freedom** takes._  
"I decided to make up my own mind," Lydia replied, her tone calm and even. She crushed her cigarette out in the ashtray, wincing as she did so, but a bright smile replaced it when she looked back over at him.  
Every curse Betelgeuse thought went out the window when she smiled at him. He snapped his fingers, cleaning up the skull. He thought she might appreciate the act, based on the way she winced when she had to defile it.  
She ran her finger around the inside of the skull, pulling it back clean, before beaming at him.  
"Thanks." Her voice smoothed his frazzled nerves. "Now, I get to ask two questions."  
"Go ahead," Betelgeuse scoffed, rolling his eyes. It was all a show. Honestly, he didn't care either way, but he liked the way she smiled at him when he acted all offended.

* * *

"How did you die?"  
The question popped out before Lydia could even stop to think about it. She wanted to know, but she was scared that asking ventured into territory neither of them was ready for.  
Betelgeuse's eyes shot up, burning through her. They were a bright, firey, lime green, a color that she couldn't really describe, but tried her hardest to get away from. Somehow, it felt like he could see into her soul and judge her whole character with that look.  
The silence that fell over them felt both deafening and suffocating. She squirmed uncomfortably and averted her eyes from him, unable to look into the hellfire she had stoked. She hadn't meant to, of course, but she should have known better than to ask how someone died.  
_So fuckin' **rude**. Wouldn't I get annoyed, angry, **hurt** , if someone asked me that out of the blue? Jesus, Lydia, you have to be more careful._  
The moment she finished chastising herself, though, Betelgeuse spoke up, causing her to look back at him.  
"Jumped." His lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed, no longer green, but a dulled orangish-yellow. If she could get past this, get him laughing and joking again, maybe she could ask him about that.  
"Why?" Her voice came out as barely a breath. She tried to stop the word's escape, but found that the desire to know was too big for her to push down.  
"Loneliness is a helluva drug." Betelgeuse caught her eye, smiling mirthlessly. "Ya know?"

* * *

Betelgeuse hadn't planned on telling her the truth; a thousand quips about fuckin' himself into an early grave raced through his mind, but before he could form any of them into a cohesive sentence, he found the word tumbling out of his mouth.  
"Jumped."  
_Fuck! That was too serious. I gotta reel it back in…_  
He opened his mouth to make a joke about takin' a leap of faith and the faith part not holding him up well enough, or something to that effect, when he heard her response. He had to focus on the word; it was nearly too quiet for him to hear.  
"Why?"  
He thought to himself for a moment, trying to decide if he should tell her the truth.  
_Fuck it. Why not?_  
"Loneliness is a helluva drug."  
He thought back to the previous day, his eyes swelling when he remembered the scars he had just barely been able to heal.  
_And not even all the way…_  
"Ya know?"  
She nodded, shivering, and pulled herself in, resting her forehead on her knees.  
_Gotta fix it 'fore she gets too far gone…_  
"But, hey, I gotta meet you," Betelgeuse settled into an uneasy grin. After a few moments, she looked back at him, her dark eyes glistening with tears that wouldn't fall.  
"Guess that makes you the luckiest man not alive."  
Betelgeuse chuckled, glad that she found the energy to joke back.  
"Nah, Babes," he rested a hand on her knee. "That makes me the luckiest bastard that ever walked the earth."

* * *

Lydia finally let herself smile, though she was still bunched up on the couch, her knees pressed firmly against her chest.  
She wasn't sure how to move on, how to keep him-- or herself, for that matter-- in high spirits after the morbidity of their conversation.  
"Your turn."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****TRIGGER WARNING****  
> Allusions to and mentions of self harm/suicide and eating disorders, as well as some abandonment/parental issues.  
> Be safe, Babes!
> 
> Other interesting tidbits that I decided to share because I thought they were funny:  
> 1\. While writing this, a fuckin' beetle flew down my shirt.  
> 2\. Ants bit a miniature, partial pattern of Orion (including Betelgeuse) on my ankle.  
> 3\. I take these events to mean that I am on the right track, haha.

Lydia's legs gripped the wooden rafter like her life depended on it, her arms dangling carelessly toward the ground, counting down from 100 in a loud voice.  
"99, 98, 97…"  
They had long since abandoned the questions game, deciding to play a childish game of "truth or dare" at Betelgeuse's suggestion. The decision came when he refused to believe that her favorite color was green; he was dead set on it being black, like her "soul", as he put it.  
Honestly, before meeting him, she would've agreed. Seeing the variety of greens his eyes portrayed, however, quickly changed her mind.  
"96, 95, 94…"  
Betelgeuse started counting with her, reaching out to catch her in case she fell. She began to feel light headed somewhere around 40, swinging for a second and nearly slipping and falling down. Though the distance was relatively short, she would land head first, and Betelgeuse seemed to think that was the worst imaginable outcome.  
"10, 9, 8…"  
Her vision had long since been fuzzy, but it started to go black. Her count was barely intelligible.  
"7, 6, 5…"

* * *

Betelgeuse kept a close eye and his arms at the ready, in case the girl lost her grip. He couldn't believe that he had suggested this game, suddenly finding it entirely too serious.  
"4, 3… Lydia!"  
She finally fell just before the count of 2 and Betelgeuse was barely able to catch her, with or without the help of magic.  
"Fuck," he grumbled under his breath, "That was too fuckin' close."  
He would have to be more careful.

* * *

Lydia came to after only a few moments and grimaced.  
"The fuck? How am I so freaking weak that 100 is too much for me?" Her voice came out garbled. She sat up, finding herself on the floor with Betelgeuse kneeling over her.  
_Food._ she thought, mentally face palming. _When is the last time I ate anything?_  
She thought back to the night before, when Barb made her dinner, before glancing at her watch. It had been nearly 24 hours since then, which wouldn't usually bother her, but hanging upside down must've just pushed her over the edge.  
Betelgeuse looked worried. He was fussing over her, helping her to her feet, then over to the couch. He propped her up on the arm, swinging her feet to stretch out over the cushion.  
"Truth or dare?" She muttered, letting her head fall to the side, resting on the back of the couch.  
"Dare." The worry on Betelgeuse's face faded, but didn't disappear completely.  
"I dare you to…" Lydia's stomach growled, a sharp pain shooting through her abdomen. "Get me a pizza."  
She smiled, looking up at him through her eyelashes.  
Betelgeuse rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers. A large pizza box flopped onto the floor, leaving Lydia at a loss for words.  
"Next time, make it harder," he growled, seating himself squarely on the floor and throwing the lid over to reveal a cheesy mess.  
"Should've ordered the lobster," Lydia quipped, grinning wickedly. She slid onto the floor and pulled a piece of the pizza up, admiring the cheese stretch, before taking a bite.  
"Not bad."

* * *

"Not fuckin' bad?" Betelgeuse growled, his eyes flashing with mock annoyance. "I make a pizza appear out of fuckin' _nowhere_ an all ya got ta say is 'not bad'?"  
Realistically, he was a little off-put at her reaction. He had always been able to impress breathers and non-breathers alike with his ability to manifest things out of thin air. He would've thought he would be pissed at her reaction, but, instead, he found it… _endearing_.  
The importance of her previous statement was lost on him for a while as he grumbled. On his third slice, however, it hit him.  
"Lobster?" He eyed her for a moment. "What d'ya mean by that?"  
He knew, of course, but he really just wanted to get her blushing again. Maybe get her feeling as off-put as he was.  
"Nothing…" Lydia refused to meet his gaze, but no blush appeared.  
He narrowed his gaze, leaning closer to her.  
"Aw, Babes, did ya have _plans_ for me taday?" He lowered his voice. "Did ya want sumthin'?"  
Finally! The blush he so desperately wanted to see began to rage full-force against her porcelain skin.  
"No. I just didn't realize how easy it would be for you." Lydia's voice was calmer and more clear that he would've thought. He grimaced, having temporarily failed at his game.  
"I dare ya…"  
"I never said I wanted a dare." Lydia smirked over at him.  
"I dare ya…" Betelgeuse started again, looking at her pointedly. She giggled, a sound that filled him with warmth. "Ta close yer eyes."  
She opened her mouth to protest, but after he shot her another look, she complied with an exaggerated frown.  
He was starting to feel the fatigue of being away from the Neitherworld and he didn't know how much longer he could stay out without a tether. He decided that there was one place, just one, that he could call to him and not have to worry with anyone else talking to his little breather.  
He grinned at the thought of her being _his_ for a moment before pushing the thought away. He had to focus if he was planning on bringing a piece of the Neitherworld over.

* * *

Lydia sat with her eyes gently closed for a long time. She picked at the cheese on a slice of the pizza, not trusting that she could eat with her eyes closed without making a fool out of herself.  
After a long time, she felt a rush of cool air, followed by an immediate burning sensation. She yelped, jerking away from the feeling, and her eyes snapped open.  
Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The dusty old chairs say in the corners of the room, the model town stood proudly from the center.  
But Betelgeuse was gone.  
She whimpered for a moment, feeling small and insignificant.  
_He didn't even say good bye._  
She thought about it for a moment longer, realizing that there was something else different. She couldn't be sure; she had to get across the room to check.  
When she did, though, she noticed a new addition to the model.  
"D'ya like it?" Betelgeuse's voice came from somewhere above her. She looked up, trying to locate him, but failed. "'S my place."  
"So, I make one comment about lobster and you start thinkin' you're gonna take me home?" Lydia laughed, feeling more relaxed.  
"Hey, hey, hey…" Lydia felt Betelgeuse's hands on her hips. "I just wanted to show you where I live. Seein' as how we've only been tagether in this attic, I thought it might be a good idea."

* * *

"Okay." Lydia turned to face him, her eyes boring into him. His skin crawled under her gaze in a way it had never done before. If he wasn't thinking more clearly, he might've thought she was undressing him with her eyes.  
He was, however, thinking clearly. Her scrutiny stemmed from some kind of reluctance… something kept her from wanting to go home with him. He just hoped it wasn't permanent.  
_Yeah, yeah; ya can't win yer freedom if tha little breather don't fuck ya. Gotta get her trust, get off, and get gone before she has a chance to think twice, right?_  
He growled against the voice in his head. Not long ago, he would have thought those things without a second's hesitation. But, now, after getting to know her, he felt slimy just hearing it.  
_Maybe I am catchin' feelin's…_  
"I like the attic, though," he quickly changed his tune, stepping away from her. "'S got some good bugs, some good dust, 'n some good company."

* * *

"Good bugs?" Lydia skirted past his last comment, grateful that he had taken a step away from her. She grimaced slightly as he snatched up a large waterbug and crunched into it, making his point.  
"Want one?" Betelgeuse offered her one of the squirming bugs in his hand.  
"No," she smiled, "thanks."  
While he crunched, she thought. She needed a chance to remind herself of her goal here: to see if this… _friend_... was really as bad as Adam and Barb would have her believe. She had to keep herself above water.  
_But you've already kissed him… Again… today!_  
_Once is an accident_ , Lydia reminder herself, _And my rules clearly state that he is allowed to kiss me. Just nothing beyond that._  
Feeling quite satisfied, she stepped toward Betelgeuse.  
"We can check it out later," she promised, hoping that he wouldn't get too offended by her response. He didn't seem to, leaning into her hand when she pressed it against his cheek.  
She moved past him, taking a seat on the couch. He joined her, his back pressed firmly on on arm of the couch, trying not to push her too far too quickly.  
"I jus' had to bring it… can't use magic well without it… get dried up, ya know?"

* * *

Betelgeuse hadn't planned on telling her why he'd pulled the Roadhouse to this side, but he felt like he owed her an explanation.  
_She's gonna be the death of you, Beetle. Ya really need to get away. Fast._  
That fuckin' voice just could not make up its mind, could it? _One minute, it's actin' like it wants her around and the next, it tells me ta leave her alone… what does it want from me?_  
Beej's head was beginning to pound. He had never argued with himself this much before and it was starting to piss him off. After a hefty 'fuck off', though, he was finally granted silence.  
"'S gettin' late." He observed, directing Lydia to the darkness outside the windows. "Shouldncha be gettin' ta bed soon?"

* * *

"Why haven't the Maitlands called me?" Lydia shot straight up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Betelgeuse remained seated, turning so that he was facing her as she strode to the door.  
"Prolly went to the Waiting Room." His words stopped Lydia in her tracks. She turned to meet his eyes, curiosity brimming in hers.  
"What is the Waiting Room?"  
"'S where ya go when ya got problems in yer afterlife. Ya meet yer caseworker an' they tell ya how to deal with whatever yer problem is. I mean…" Beej rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, refusing to look at Lydia. She scoffed at his answer, unwilling to accept that they would just leave her without saying anything to her at all.  
They were like her parents.  
Hell, they were more like parents than anything she'd ever had.  
_If they were so willing to leave…_  
She stopped herslef before she could finish the though. A chill ran down her spine as she turned back to the door.  
"Why would they go there?" Lydia shuddered, pulling the door open. She was almost afraid of what would happen next.  
"Barb? Adam? Are you guys there?"

* * *

Betelgeuse cursed under his breath the moment Lydia opened the door. He really hoped that the Maitlands wouldn't answer her. He really didn't want them up here, fuckin' around. He could keep himself invisible, keep them from noticing him, but he really didn't need them filling his girl's head with their stupid opinions.  
_So, now she's your girl? You have got to be more careful, Beetle. Yet gettin' too close. Ya gotta…_  
_I told ya to **fuck off**._  
The voice in his head fell silent and Betelgeuse turned his full attention to Lydia.  
When no answer came from downstairs, she turned, leaving the door open.  
"Ta deal with whatever's botherin' 'em." He didn't know what else to tell her. He knew that they wanted to get rid of her and her family, but he didn't know if he should tell her that.  
"To get rid of us."  
_Shit._  
"That's why they called you." Lydia caught his eye.  
_Double shit._  
"Yeah…"  
"Why?"  
"'Cause that's mah job. An' I'm damn good at it."  
"Why do they want to get rid of us?" Lydia's big eyes shimmered with tears. One escaped and slid down her cheek, causing Betelgeuse to step toward her. She flinched and he stopped, not knowing what to say.  
"I don't know." He shuffled from one foot to the other, letting his hands hang limply at his sides. Lydia took a tentative step toward him and he though she might faint again. He braced himself, preparing to catch her.  
She took another step toward him and he still wasn't certain what he should do, so he stood still and waited to see what she did next.  
Lydia crashed into his arms, holding him as tightly as she could, silently sobbing into his chest. He held her until she tired herself out. He moved to carry her down the stairs and figure out which room was hers, but she stopped him.  
"Wanna stay here."  
Betelgeuse stopped and looked around the room. None of the dust-riddled surfaces looked comfortable enough to sleep on, so he mulled over his options, ultimately deciding to flick his finger and summon a twin-size mattress by the couch. It wasn't the best he could do, but he thought it would work just fine for a night.  
With a snap, Lydia was dressed in black flannel pajamas, her hair loose and wild. Betelgeuse smirked at the sight of her, curled in his arms, sleeping peacefully.  
He gently placed her on the bed, moving to go sit himself back in the chair across the room and read through the night again before she stopped him.  
"Don' go far." Her voice was garbled into the pillow. "Don' wanna be 'lone."  
Betelgeuse sighed, smiling to himself, as he stretched out over the couch, one hand idly brushing through Lydia's hair as he continued his reading from the previous night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****TRIGGER WARNING****  
> Mentions of and allusions to death, including infant death.  
> Be safe, Babes!

Lydia rolled over, her arm hitting the cold floor and sending jolts up to her shoulder. She grumbled as her eyes fluttered open, panicking for a moment when she realized she wasn't in her room. The events of the night before flooded her mind-- the Maitlands had left without so much as a 'goodbye' and she slept in the attic with Betelgeuse.  
_Betelgeuse!_  
She looked up to find him sitting on the couch, reading a book that looked as old and important as the 'Handbook for the Recently Deceased' he gave her the day before. She craned her neck, trying not to alert him to the fact that she was awake, and caught a glimpse of the title: 'Neitherworld Marriage Laws'.  
"Marriage Laws?" Lydia chuckled, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head. The attic echoed with her popping back, leaving a wave of relief washing over her. She got to her feet, grimacing slightly when she realized what she was wearing.  
"I don't usually wear pants," she said aloud, her voice barely more than a whisper. She looked at Betelgeuse, who was being abnormally quiet.  
"You okay?"

* * *

Betelgeuse checked out the moment Lydia sat up and caught him reading. He was too busy chastising himself to hear anything else that she had said. He couldn't believe that he had been so stupid as to get caught.  
_Ya shoulda put it up when tha sun came out. Now, ya gotta try an' explain why yer readin' it._  
Betelgeuse opened his mouth, but not words came. He couldn't think of a single smooth line-- or any line, for that matter-- that would help him.  
"You good?"  
He looked up at Lydia, watching as she stretched. Her shirt lifted ever so slightly in the front, flashing a bit of her navel.  
"Yeah," Betelgeuse grinned uneasily, "Jus' readin'."  
He pushed the book between the cushions of the couch and waited for her inevitable question.

* * *

"Who're you planning on marrying?" Lydia smiled, though her heart leapt in her chest. She knew that the two of them had not known each other long enough for him to be considering marrying her, and the way he kissed her would suggest that he didn't have anyone else in his life that he'd be willing to be tied down to.  
_To be fair, though, he was in a whorehouse when I met him… How does marriage work in the afterlife, anyway?_  
She strode to the window, keeping herself busy as he thought of an answer.

* * *

_Do I tell 'er the truth? Or am I s'posed ta lie? How'll she react?_  
"I's jus' lookin' into it. Wa'n't sure how it all worked on mah side of the fence."  
There. It wasn't a lie, but it shouldn't freak her out. _I hope_.  
She seemed to contemplate this for a moment, turning to face him.  
"How does it work?" She still wouldn't meet his gaze, but he felt like he was making some kind of progress.  
"Lotta rules involved," he replied, standing. He didn't really know what else he could say without her asking the wrong kinds of questions.  
"Like what?"  
"Well." He thought back to the last bit he read. "Like, if a widow gets remarried, after she dies, every husband is still her husband. They get to decide amongst themselves if she's with all of 'em or none of 'em."

* * *

Lydia mulled that over for a moment before deciding that it made sense.  
"Interesting."  
She thought for a second longer and a question popped into her head. It was out of her mouth, hanging in the air, before she could stop to think about what it would mean to him and how it could affect him.  
"Have you been married?"  
She stopped cold, her arms frozen in their position behind her back. Eyes wide with fear, she refused to look at him. She couldn't believe that she would be so _stupid_. She opened her mouth to joke it off, to take it back, to say _something_ when he spoke.  
"Once."  
Lydia's eyes shot up, meeting his for the first time that morning. His dull yellow eyes bore into her, searching for her reaction. She stood, stoic, unsure of how to react or what to say.  
"Oh."

* * *

Betelgeuse had no idea why he told her that. His marriage had been a lifetime ago, literally. He shuffled, shifting his weight between his feet.  
"Doncha have school today?" He cursed under his breath, knowing how his topic change must look. He just didn't know what else to do.  
She took a step toward him, hands out, offering him a lifeline. He took it. He pulled her into his arms, crushing her in a hug, and breathed in her scent.  
"Where is she now?" Lydia's voice rang out against the silence, pulling Betelgeuse back from the brink.  
"The Lost Souls room," he murmured against her hair. His head was swimming; he needed to sit down, but he didn't want to let her go. He needed to keep holding her.  
She pulled back, looking him in the eyes.  
"What's the Lost Souls room?"

* * *

Lydia's heart ached for the man in her arms; he seemed so broken, so unlike the man she had so briefly known. But, still, her curiosity got the better of her.  
She asked the question, hoping it might pull him back, keep him tethered to the world.  
"What's the Lost Souls room?"  
He shook his head, refusing to answer her. She felt his knees beginning to buckle, so she led him to the couch.  
_I have to fix this…_  
"I gotta get ready for school… wanna help?" She didn't know what else to do, but she thought if she let him use his magic, try to impress her, it might help.  
Betelgeuse didn't respond. Lydia felt her heart breaking. She wanted so desperately to help him with this, but she couldn't figure out how. Should she let him talk about it or ignore it? Ignoring didn't seem to be working.  
"How did she die?" Her voice hitched, leaving her feeling breathless.  
"Childbirth."  
With one word, it felt like Lydia's whole world was rocked.  
"Wait… You have a child?" She kept her voice low, though she did feel panic rising within her. An irrational fear that he could be her great-great- however many- great- grand something took over, leaving her feeling helpless and confused.

* * *

Betelgeuse felt Lydia freeze when she asked that question and he chuckled morbidly, knowing what must be going through her mind.  
"Nah." He pulled back far enough to look her in the eyes. "Kid passed a few weeks later."  
The blunt response rocked him to his core, but he didn't know how else to put it.  
"I'm so sorry, Beej… I… is there anything I can do?" A few tears spilled down Lydia's cheek.  
_She's incredible…_  
"Yeah. Ya can let me doll ya up for school!" Betelgeuse pulled away, taking a deep breath and putting on his widest smile. He didn't want to dwell on the past-- not anymore. For the first time ever, he felt like he might be able to truly move on.  
_An' mah li'l breather is how I'm gonna do it._  
With a waggle of two fingers, Lydia was dressed in a short, black dress with spiderweb fishnets and combat boots. She giggled and Betelgeuse finally felt like himself again.  
"D'ya like it?" He smirked. "I can do yer makeup, too."

* * *

"I _love_ it," Lydia responded. "But, I have to wear a uniform at school and this," she motioned to her dress, "isn't exactly it."  
Betelgeuse smiled, causing her heart to melt once more. He moved to snap his fingers and dress her again before she stopped him.  
"Do you even know what my uniform looks like?" She laughed. He shook his head and snapped his fingers anyway, leaving her looking clean and pristine. A white top and red and black skirt replaced the dress and her hair was pulled back from her face.  
"The skirt is supposed to be blue." She corrected him, twirling. "But this is pretty much it."  
Another snap of his fingers changed her skirt to blue.  
"Ya look good enuff ta eat." Betelgeuse chuckled, moving toward her and placing his hands on her hips. She leaned into him, closing her eyes.  
"Ya want me ta kiss you?" He breathed in her ear, his voice gruff. She nodded, slowly, worried that it might be too soon after the discussion previously.  
He pressed his lips firmly to hers, breathing her in, but didn't push any further. She decided to keep it that way, wanting to let him take his time.  
After a few moments, he pulled away and locked eyes with her.  
"Ya gotta go," he whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll still be here when ya get back."  
She smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "You better be."  
With that, she headed out to face the world, eager to get the day over with so that she could come back to her poltergeist.  
"Bye," she whispered as she closed the door.  
"See ya." She could barely hear his voice as she practically floated down the stairs.  
Gathering her things, she stopped to admire his handiwork in her vanity.  
Her makeup was dark and sharp, more than she would normally do for herself, but she liked it. She also noted that her uniform was at least one size smaller than she would normally wear. And the spiderweb fishnets were still there. She smiled, deciding to keep them on.  
With that, she was headed off to what would undoubtedly be another boring and mundane day of her senior year.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if there are any specific triggers in this chapter, but there might be, so be aware. There is some mildly sexual stuff, kind of, and some basic bullying.  
> Be safe, Babes!

Beetelgeuse sighed the moment Lydia closed the door. He felt like everything was going sideways. He had to be more careful, moving forward. He could only imagine what she must be thinking of him. He moved to find his book, growling in frustration the moment his hand connected with it.  
He needed a break. He flopped back on the couch, pressing his face into his elbow. Usually, he would call Cherry when he felt like this. After his dismissal of her the other day, though, he would bet that bridge was thoroughly burned.  
He considered calling Kandy, his second favorite Inferno girl. She could twist in ways he could only dream of. He hadn't formally announced his engagement to Lydia yet; maybe he could have an impromptu bachelor's party. It could help him let off some steam and get his head screwed on straight.  
He flicked his fingers before he could think twice. When he opened his eyes, he was lying on his own dingy couch, Kandy hovering by the door.  
He took a moment to draw his eyes over her. Her green skin glowed under the candle light and her bright, unnaturally crimson hair curled over her shoulders.  
"Betel, baby!" Her voice grated on his ears. He shook his head, remembering why she was only his second favorite girl. "Cherry told us ya didn't want anything to do with us anymore."  
He sat up and waved her over, watching as she moved. She crawled into his lap, leaning so that she could nibble on his ear. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer to him.  
He imagined for a moment that his Lydia was straddling him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.  
Feeling her cold skin brought him back to reality. Realizing his mistake, he pushed her off of him.  
"I don't." He admitted, cursing himself. "That's why I called ya. Ta tell ya ta spread the word."  
Kandy's confusion was written all over her face. She pouted from her position on the floor, rocking back on her heels and puffing her chest out as enticingly as she knew how.  
"I'm gettin' married." Betelgeuse was as surprised as Kandy was at the words coming out of his mouth. "An' I can't be fuckin' 'round with any of ya anymore. 'S over."  
Kandy's mouth hung, agape. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It shouldn't matter if he was getting married or not; not really. Betel had never been the type to settle down and he never turned her down before.  
"One last time?" Kandy purred, placing a hand on each of his knees. "For old time's sake?"  
Betelgeuse pushed her away, standing and moving to the door. He didn't need to use it, of course, but it was the symbol of the action.  
"Why?" Kandy turned to look at him. "You know that, in the Neitherworld, it doesn't fucking matter if you keep fucking with us. This ain't the dark ages, baby. We all got needs. Let me help with yours."  
In a flash, Betelgeuse was standing in front of her, pulling her to her feet. His eyes glowed a vibrant green-- a color Kandy had never witnessed before-- and his grip was harder than she'd expected. She cried out, pulling away from him.  
"This time," he growled, tightening his grip on her arm, "it matters."  
He snapped his fingers, sending Kandy back to Dante's, before crumbling to the couch.  
_This is gonna be harder than I thought._

* * *

Lydia took her seat in the back of the class before pulling out her tattered notebook. She kept her eyes trained down, as she often would in class. She sketched as she waited for class to start, her pencil bringing Betelgeuse to life on the page. She hadn't realized she was drawing him until she saw his eyes staring back at her. She smiled to herself as she thought about him, waiting for her to come back.  
"And, he was, like, totally into me."  
Lydia glanced across the room, a slight scowl on her lips, as Claire Brewster entered the room. She rolled her eyes, focusing on her sketchpad.  
Claire was your typical Valley girl: tan, blonde, legs for days. More than any of those things, she was cruel. She could tear someone apart with a simple turn of phrase. Lydia couldn't stand her.  
Claire perched herself on the teacher's desk, smirking out at the rest of the students, though her eyes bore into Lydia.  
"Didn't you guys hear? Mr. Bowers is out with, like, the flu or something." Claire tossed her hair over her shoulder. "They, like, couldn't find a sub."  
The class erupted. Most of them left, leaving Lydia and Claire's posse to sit alone in the empty classroom. The clacking of Claire's heels was the only sound left behind as she made her way to Lydia's desk. She leaned over, placing her hands on either side of Lydia's notebook.  
"Does this guy, like, know that he's being stalked?" Claire whispered. "Or do you just, like, hide in the trees and watch him get undressed."  
Lydia's face began to burn. She kept her eyes down, refusing to acknowledge Claire. Any confrontation would only end in her own suspension; everyone realized that when Claire got Prudence, the only friend Lydia made at this school, expelled. No one knew exactly how she did it or what Prudence had done to piss off the little princess, but Lydia learned quickly not to cross Claire.  
Bertha, Lydia's only other friend, transferred after Claire spread a nasty rumor about her giving blowjobs behind the bleachers. Lydia didn't know if Claire's bullying had anything to do with them all being friends-- or if the attacks were truly random-- but they felt pretty personal; she had isolated Lydia, who was already an outcast.  
"Are you, like, deaf now or something?" Claire's voice broke Lydia out of her thoughts. Lydia knew that no matter what she did, the torment would only get worse. If she ignored her, at least she wouldn't get expelled.  
And Lydia knew all of Claire's moves. She pulled the sketch away before Claire could grab it, slipping the notebook into her bag and standing in one smooth motion.  
She smirked at Claire, moving to the window.  
"Are you, like, leaving?" Claire stepped closer to her.  
"I would never." Lydia pushed open the window, leaning out of it. She looked left and right before seating herself on the windowsill.  
"If you leave, I'll get you,like, suspended! Or worse."  
Lydia caught her gaze.  
"I'm not leaving, Claire. I'm just enjoying the breeze."  
Claire scoffed, her face bright red.  
_Fuck. I'm gonna pay for this later._  
Lydia didn't care. She just didn't want to deal with Claire's bullshit.  
"You can't be in the window!" Claire shouted, stamping her foot. Lydia smirked at her, deciding to go all out. She pulled her pack of cigarettes from her bag, lighting one as she pressed it to her lips.  
"I'm getting Mrs. Shannon!" Claire shouted at Lydia, rushing out of the door. Lydia felt her heart leap into her throat and, without thinking, she dropped to her feet outside of the window.  
She crushed her cigarette against the heel of her shoe and made her way to her bike. She could hear Claire shouting from behind her, but she didn't look back. She found her bike and rushed home, barely breathing the whole way.  
She dropped her bike on the front lawn and got inside before she let herself breathe. The moment the door closed behind her, she broke out in laughter.

* * *

Betelgeuse mopped his face and snapped his fingers, bringing himself back to the attic. Since no one put him back in the box, he was able to come and go at will.  
He had spent most of his morning trying to figure out what he and Lydia would do that night. He craved spending time with her in a way he hadn't thought possible before. He realized that he missed her. She hadn't even been gone a full day and he wanted to go take her away from the school, have her pretend she was sick, something. He just needed her back.  
He heard the door close downstairs and he cursed to himself. _Thought Chuck and the little woman were outta town…_  
He considered blowing off steam by scaring them. Just as he was about to head down, give them a good fright, he heard laughter.  
"The fuck?" He crept down the stairs, curious about the sound. He thought it sounded like Lydia, but she hadn't been gone long enough for her to be back yet.  
There she was, though, laughing so hard she was crying. The makeup he had put on her this morning was running down her face and she looked hysterical.  
"Lyds, what're ya doin' back?"  
"I… left…" She could barely get the words out. She looked at him, though, and sobered up, her laughter fading into nothing.  
"Ya alright?"  
"They're gonna kick me out." She chuckled, mirthlessly. "And, then, I'm gonna have to go back to New York."  
Betelgeuse felt his heart sink into his stomach. He couldn't let that happen.  
"Wha'd'ya wanna do? Seein' as how we have all afternoon." A part of him wanted to go and ensure that, whatever she did, she wouldn't be moving away from him. He had finally stated his intentions. He couldn't lose his one opportunity at freedom just because his little breather had a rebellious streak.  
Looking at her, though, he knew that he wouldn't be able to leave her if she asked him to stay. Her attention, his connection to her, was addictive.  
"I think I want to see where you live," Lydia looked up at him.

* * *

Lydia didn't know why she had said it, but, once it was out, she knew it was the truth. The man in front of her confused and delighted her and she wanted to see where he called home.  
"Ya sure?" He avoided her gaze.  
"Yeah. Unless you've got company," Lydia teased, though she felt worry tug at the back of her mind.  
"Nah." His eyes shot up, meeting hers. "Nah. 'S jus'... I jus' wanted to be sure."  
With a flick of his finger, Lydia found herself standing in a strange, dark room. The walls were stained yellow over the red paint and the floor was littered with broken glass. A tattered couch sat in the center of the room, but Lydia couldn't make out any other furniture.  
"So," she moved to the couch, "this is where you bring all your dates?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****TRIGGER WARNING****  
> Some blood happens. 
> 
> Note:  
> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who is reading this fic. I really needed the break from my novel. With that being stated, I did finally finish my first draft!  
> Also, I am getting married in a little over a week, so, due to last minute planning stuff, I might not be able to update as often as I would like. I will still continue to work, though, and update as often as I can.  
> Thanks again!

Betelgeuse found himself nervously pacing as Lydia took everything in. His hands itched to clean the room-- the whole house, really--, but he kept them still. He just watched as she walked to the couch, waiting for her response.  
"Is this where you bring all of your dates?"  
The ease in which the words came out of her mouth made him tense.  
"Nah," he responded, "jus' you."  
It wasn't exactly a lie; Betelgeuse didn't _date_ the women he brought home, though he didn't like to bring them to his place much, anyway. He preferred to do their business at Dante's-- or anywhere that wasn't here, really. This was his safe place, his home, and he liked to be alone here.  
He kept an eye on Lydia, trying to decipher what she must be thinking. When she flopped down on the couch, he guessed he answered correctly, but the implications of her calling herself a date weren't lost on him. He didn't think he should mention it, given the strange emotional state he's found her in.  
"It's nice."  
He gawked at her. How the hell could she think this place was _nice_? The appeal of the place, at least to him, was that it was the opposite of nice.  
He kicked a broken beer bottle across the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wasn't sure what he should say or do, so he just stood, waiting for her to do something.

* * *

Lydia didn't know why, but she felt safe in this place. The broken glass and holes in the walls didn't bother her, nor did the ratty couch. She flopped down on it, sucking in a sharp breath when one of the coils stabbed her in the side. She sat up, pulling her shirt away from the wound.  
"Ouch. I think your couch has it in for me," she joked bending so that she could see the scratch. It was deeper than she thought it should be and blood oozed from it, staining her finger when she pulled it away. She couldn't see the damage from that angle very well.  
"You got a mirror I can use?" She asked, looking over at Betelgeuse. He hadn't noticed her reaction, or that she was even bleeding. He seemed to be lost in thought.  
"Beej?" She stood up, letting her shirt fall over the bleeding wound. "You okay?"  
"Huh?" He blinked slowly, coming back from whatever thought he was lost in. "Yeah, 'm alright."  
"I asked if you had a mirror." She placed a hand on his arm.  
"Nah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Lil hard to come by on this side."  
Lydia's face showed her confusion, but she decided not to ask him about it. There seemed to be a lot more rules than she ever imagined.  
"Can you look at this for me, then?" She pulled her shirt up, twisting so that he could see the cut.  
"How…" His eyes were wide as he brushed his fingers over the wound.  
"The couch." Lydia laughed. "I guess it doesn't like me too much."

* * *

Betelgeuse chuckled at her joke, pressing his fingers into the wound. A part of him was spellbound-- he couldn't bleed any more and, while he had seen other people bleed, he actually cared for the girl standing in front of him.  
He pulled his hand back when she winced. _Not s'posed ta hurt 'er._ He hadn't meant to hurt her, of course, but he couldn't help feeling guilty. He met her gaze and snapped his fingers. Her skin stitched itself back together, leaving nothing but a trail of blood to mark the cut.  
He ran his finger back over her side, wiping the blood away.  
"You gonna lick it?" Lydia laughed as she watched him. He locked eyes with her and stuck his finger in his mouth.

* * *

"That's so fuckin' gross," Lydia told him, tugging her shirt back down. She tried to hide it, but she was fascinated by his reaction.  
"I don't think so," he smiled at her. "I think it's good."  
Lydia felt a bit of panic fall over her. For a moment, she was concerned that he might try to bite her or eat her or something.  
Looking into his eyes, though, she knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her.  
"Sure," she responded, "You're a ghost. Why wouldn't you like the taste of living blood."  
The flash in his eyes told her that wasn't the response he was looking for. He pressed closer to her, his hand on her jaw.  
"Maybe I should have some more," he growled, nipping at her ear.  
"Why not?" Lydia responded, breathlessly. She knew this was a game, like the one they played the first night they met, even though it felt a little more dangerous.  
Betelgeuse pulled away, his eyes boring into hers. Electricity crackled all around them. Lydia shuddered with anticipation, letting her eyes gently close, as she waited for him to kiss her.

* * *

Betelgeuse couldn't make heads or tails of this little breather. There were so many emotions swirling inside him; emotions he didn't know he had the capacity to feel. He felt something lurch in his chest, not for the first time, as he considered his next move.  
He could kiss her, push her against the wall, take what he wanted-- what he was pretty certain she wanted. He could drop the pretenses and tell her the truth, but he couldn't bring himself to even imagine her reaction.  
He settled on door number three: pull away and try to keep a level head. The moment he stopped touching her, Lydia whined softly, under her breath, as her eyes fluttered open. She looked confused and hurt by his reaction.  
He could tell she was new at all of this and he let it get out of control, again. If he kissed her, and was careful, maybe he could salvage the moment.  
He found her jaw again, raising her face to his. The look on her face nearly broke his heart. He couldn't read thoughts, but he was fairly sure that she was dwelling on something-- something that his actions brought back to the surface.  
Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips to hers, reveling in her warmth. He tangled a hand in her hair, pressing her against the wall.  
_Whoa! Ya gotta be careful, dumbass! Back off a bit! Ya don't wanna spoil our way out._  
Crude as the voice was, it had a point. Betelgeuse had announced his engagement to the woman in his arms; there would be no backing out now. He would have to wait.

* * *

Lydia couldn't figure out what was going on. One minute, Betelgeuse would act like she was the most desirable person on earth and, the next, he was pulling away. The whole situation left her feeling like she had emotional whiplash.  
When he pulled away from their kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers and kept his eyes closed. Lydia didn't, though. She watched him, trying to figure out why he was acting this way.  
She wondered if it had anything to do with the wife he lost. He seemed to love the woman and, that being one of the few details Lydia really knew about him, it seemed likely that he was afraid to get too close to her in fear of losing her.  
She decided the fear must be at least one of the causes for the rollercoaster she found herself on and, while she still felt confused about the whole ordeal, she decided not to push him. He had to work out his feelings, his issues, on his own-- though, maybe, she could help.  
"So, what do you want to do now?" Lydia asked, breaking the silence. She pulled away from him as far as she could, pressing her back into the wall.  
"Um.." Betelgeuse finally opened his eyes, scanning her face. She smiled softly and pressed her hand to his cheek.  
"I don't mind waiting for you," she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

* * *

_She's too fuckin' **good** fer me._  
Betelgeuse ignored the thought, though he knew it was true. He stepped back, letting her have some air, and thought for a moment. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but he knew that would have consequences, mainly regarding his freedom. A part of him knew that wasn't the only thing he was concerned with anymore, but he couldn't deny that he had ulterior motives.  
He also just wanted to have a claim to the little breather. In either case, he would have to abide by the rules and wait. He just had to wait.  
"Why don't we just get ta know each other a bit?"  
"Didn't we already do that?" Lydia joked, her eyes lighting up at his suggestion.  
"Ya know more'n anybody else. Don't mean ya know everything." He leaned in closer to her and grinned. "'N there's a lot ta know."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience. I hope you enjoy!

Lydia found herself growing more and more frustrated with the poltergeist. It had been weeks since her first visit to his house and, since then, he hadn't so much as touched her. She could see him stealing lingering glances out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't want to be near her.  
The whole situation was driving her crazy. To top it all off, her father called to say that they would be coming back soon-- he had been having some trouble getting Maxie Dean to agree to coming to the house, but, apparently, was finally able to get him to agree (something about his wife being interested in the paranormal)-- and the Maitlands still hadn't come back from the Neitherworld. She was beginning to worry that they might not ever come back.  
It was a Saturday, she was free from the confines of school and that bitch Claire Brewster, so she should be happy. Instead, she was pacing across her bedroom floor, trying to figure out why Betelgeuse was being so strange.  
For the first few days, she thought it might be because he was still dealing with his wife's death, and-- while she admitted that might be a part of it-- she thought it might be bigger than that. Maybe his attention was just because he felt sorry for her. Maybe her assumptions from the beginning were right all along.  
She flopped face down on her bed and sighed. She knew what she had to do, but she felt so weird about doing it.  
She had to ask him what was going on.

* * *

Betelgeuse stretched out on the dusty couch in the Maitlands' attic. He didn't know what to do anymore. He tried giving Lydia her space, knowing he would have to tell her his plan eventually. Every time he saw her, though, he found himself lost for words. He wasn't used to that feeling. He just needed some time to make a plan.  
His watch ticked over the 11 o'clock mark, leaving him feeling dumbfounded. Usually, Lydia was here by now. He had grown used to their little routine. She would come and they would talk or play some kind of game, get to know each other.  
Hell, she knew just about everything there was to know about him, the Ghost with the Most. He chuckled to himself for a moment before he realized the weight of that realization.  
She was getting too close. Maybe she heard some things she wasn't happy about; she did know what his job entailed, after all. Maybe his honesty about it drove her away. It was possible. She was human, after all. It was feasible that she wasn't comfortable with the idea of him spooking people-- driving people insane. Maybe she just couldn't forgive that.  
He closed his eyes, trying to shut the thoughts out. If she didn’t want anything to do with him, he would have to respect that-- as much as he didn’t want to.  
He was getting too close to her. He thought he might be…  
Betelgeuse’s eyes snapped open. He wouldn’t admit to that. He couldn’t admit to that. There was no way in Hell he could actually have feelings. He had fought too long and too hard to keep himself above it all, to keep himself from getting too close, and he had done a damn good job of it for _centuries_. So, what, one day, some girl-- some _breather_ \-- walks into his life and he is supposed to just let it all go? Fall into a damned puddle and offer her the whole fuckin’ world? There was no way he could do that.  
In the back of his mind, the voice piped up. _You **need** her. ‘S not the end of the fuckin’ world if ya do end up fallin’ fer ‘er. She is yer only ticket out ‘n ya don’t wanna mess it all up, now do ya?_  
Betel grumbled for a moment, clenching his fists and digging his nails into his palms.  
_I guess not._

* * *

Lydia forced herself out of her bed, a half-baked idea tugging at the corners of her mind. She needed to confront Betelgeuse, to ask him where she stood with him, but the only way she could bring herself to do it was if she made herself up, dressed nice, and stood her ground. She needed to prepare for war.  
She sat at her vanity, staring into her own reflection, and wondered what the hell she actually meant by ‘war’. She didn’t expect him to argue with her, to fight her… did she? Why would he even fight her? What was she going to do that would make him upset? Was she planning to make him angry?  
She sighed, turning her attention to the makeup on the vanity. She didn’t know what she was planning, but she needed to be prepared.  
About an hour and three dress changes later, Lydia stood in the middle of her room, staring at her reflection. She barely recognized herself at this point. The dark eyeshadow and pointed eyeliner made her eyes seem larger and more sunken; the blood-red lipstick made her already pale face seem nearly ghostly. She tugged at the edge of her dress, its black material gently stretching with the motion. Her eyes drifted over the dress, taking in its length and the thin straps that seemed like they would barely hold anything up, and she took a deep breath.  
Almost as an afterthought, she pulled a pair of black heels on as she stepped out of her bedroom. She ran a hand through her hair, loosening the waves, and took another breath, closing her eyes and steeling herself for the conversation she was about to have.  
She slowly made her way to the attic, stopping every few steps to build her constitution. She didn’t want her will to fall away the moment she saw Betelgeuse.  
Before she could change her mind, she was knocking on the attic door, the sound barely audible. When no answer came, she considered turning back, her resolve faltering for a moment. She pursed her lips and turned the knob, deciding that she would have to see him again at some point and it was better now, on her terms, than later.

* * *

Betelgeuse heard the knock, but decided to ignore it. He had more time to think over the past few weeks than he had originally planned on. He needed to keep himself under control, to remember what this… relationship… was all about. He needed his freedom and the girl was going to give it to him. He didn’t need any complications along the way.  
He heard the knob jingle and turned his attention to the door, ready to say something snarky. He was angry with Lydia for leaving him alone so often, for not talking to him so freely anymore. He didn’t know why he felt this way, he just knew that he couldn’t stand it. _Hurt_ , the voice in his head popped up, _The word yer lookin’ fer is ‘hurt’_. He snarled at the voice, telling it to mind its own business, and got to his feet. He watched the door with an intensity that might have caused the door to burst into flames if it didn’t swing open at that exact moment.  
Lydia stepped inside, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor and her dress clinging to every curve of her body. Betelgeuse was taken aback. He had never seen her like this; usually, she wore her school uniform or some form of oversized sweater, never anything this… form-fitting. He couldn’t help himself; his eyes swept over her with a hunger he had never felt before.  
He gulped, pushing the feeling down, and tried to find his voice.  
“Lyds.”

* * *

The moment Lydia stepped in the door, she knew she had made the right choice. Betelgeuse couldn’t take his eyes off her. She would be able to say her piece, get it all on the table, without an argument… if she just kept seduction seething from her every move. She had no idea how to seduce anyone; she’d only ever had one boyfriend and he… wasn’t the greatest person alive.  
She shook her head, refusing that thought to enter her mind. She needed to keep herself steady if this was going to work.  
“Lyds.” His voice was ragged, like he couldn’t find his breath. He held his arms at his sides, but Lydia could see his hands twitching, causing various small items to flit about the room. Lydia couldn’t help but smile.  
“Beej?” She kept her voice low and even, though she wasn’t sure exactly why.  
“Ya look _great_.” He may have found words, but Lydia could tell that he still wasn’t quite over the shock. She took this to her advantage, hoping that she would be able to get some straight answers from him.  
“So,” she stepped within arm’s reach, “does that mean you’re attracted to me?”  
“Huh?”  
Lydia cursed herself; she should have been more careful with her wording.  
“I mean, yeah,” Betelgeuse ran a hand through his hair and clasped the back of his neck. “Why?”  
“I just thought,” she pouted, “since you didn’t want to touch me anymore…”  
She felt so silly acting this way; she had no idea what she was doing and it had to show.  
“It… It’s not… I mean, it’s not that.” Betelgeuse looked directly into her eyes, as if he could see her soul. She kept her eyes locked with his, trying to show that she could hold her own in this conversation-- even though she felt very much like she might throw up.  
“What is it then, Beej?” She laughed internally, finding herself feeling even more silly as she stepped closer to him. She pulled his hands to her hips, pressing herself into his body. “Don’t you like holding me?”  
If she could see herself now… She didn’t want to think about that. She needed to focus on the task at hand: figure out what is going on with Betelgeuse.  
“Yeah,” he murmured into her hair. She pulled away from him.  
“Then what is it?”

* * *

_I can’t touch ya ‘cuz ev’ry time I do, all I can think about is fuckin’ yer brains out._ He couldn’t tell her that. He didn’t know what else to tell her though. It did click for him, though, and he realized that his avoidance of physical contact with her had caused her to stop coming around. He didn’t know why, but that seemed like the only logical reason.  
“I jus’ di’n’t wanna push ya.” He settled on that phrase; it wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was close enough.  
“Maybe you aren’t.” Lydia responded, tilting her face up to look at him. He gazed down at her and all he could think about were those sinfully red lips wrapped around his…  
“I di’n’t think ya were ready.” Betelgeuse turned his attention to the wall behind her, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t even breath; why would he need to catch his breath? How could she have such an effect on him?  
He had no idea. He felt like he was drowning. He needed to get away before he pulled her down with him.  
“Don’t you think I can make that choice?” Lydia purred, caressing his cheek. He caught her eye again, finding himself being pulled in somehow. It felt like the more time he spent with her, the more he depended on her-- the more he _craved_ her. He didn’t know how much more he could take.  
“Yeah,” he responded. “But, I got a job ta do an’ ya might not like me very much when it’s done.”  
He pulled away from her, cursing himself. He couldn’t fucking believe he told her that. It wasn’t a lie; he was actually concerned that the job might come between them; it was her family he was trying to send away. It wasn’t the whole truth, though, and a part of him hated that he couldn’t just tell her what was going on.

* * *

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Mr. Bio-Exorcist needs to run my family out of town.” Lydia’s patience was wearing thin. “But you haven’t done anything to run us out of town. In fact, you haven’t done anything to any of us at all.”  
She knew that was technically a lie-- he had kissed her--, but she just wanted more. She was growing more certain every day that she…  
She refused to finish that thought. It was too soon to be talking about ‘love’. She just wanted him to tell her the truth. She could feel him hiding something and she just needed him to trust her enough to tell her what it was. Even if he couldn’t… feel the way she did… She wanted something to happen.  
“Ya know ‘s not that I don’t wanna, Babes,” Betelgeuse gripped her chin with his taloned fingers. She waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  
“What is it, then?” Her voice got louder than she’d intended, but she couldn’t help herself. “I know you don’t have some rule about not sleeping with women. I met you in a fuckin’ whorehouse!” She pushed herself away from him, pacing across the floor. She cursed loudly several times before turning back to him, her eyes blazing. “Is it because I have feelings for you? Is that it? You are too fucking scared of anything real, so you push it away? Hell, how many times has this even happened to you? You’ve been around _forever_! How many girls have you broken? Is that why you’re scared? Scared of breaking me?”

* * *

“No.” Betelgeuse murmured, unsure of what exactly caused her meltdown. She didn’t even seem to know; she was pacing and screaming like a mad woman. Her cheeks burned bright and her eyes swam with unspilled tears. Her fists balled up into tight balls. She was so fuckin’ cute when she was angry. She stood, silently seething, waiting for his response. He had to give her something. She obviously know something was off with him.  
“I have never been with a breather…” He paused for a moment. “Except when I was a breather. I don’t know how it works. I don’t know if I can hurt ya. I’ve been doin’ some research, but…” he trailed off. He avoided looking her in the eye. He knew that, if he did, she would know he wasn’t telling the whole truth.  
“There ain’t much.” He finished, once he realized she had stopped pacing. “I jus’... I didn’t wanna hurt ya.”  
He could tell by her demeanor that she was still angry, though the redness in her cheeks was fading and the tears in her eyes were dissipating.  
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Her voice came out hushed, more like her. He was glad for that. Between the pseudo-seductive voice she came in here with and the screaming that just happened, he was glad to have his Lydia back. He pulled her into a tight hug, crushing her against him.  
“I don’t know.” He responded, smoothing his hand down her back. After a long time, she spoke.

* * *

“I feel so stupid.” Lydia pressed her face deeper into his chest. She didn’t want him to see the blush creeping up her neck. She wanted to keep at least a shred of her dignity intact.  
“Why?”  
“The clothes… the makeup… the voice... “ She shook her head. “I thought that… I could,” she dropped her voice into a low whisper, simultaneously hoping that he would be able to hear it and that it would go unnoticed. “Seduce you.”  
No response came from Betelgeuse’s end. She wondered if he had heard her and was just laughing internally. She couldn’t see his face, so that was an obstacle. She tried pressing her ear to his chest so that she could listen to his breathing, but she remembered that he didn’t often breath. She had no idea what to do, so she kept her head down and waited for something to happen.  
“Ya seduced me tha moment I saw ya.” Betelgeuse’s voice surprised her. He had been silent for so long she was worried that he might have checked out or something. She wondered idly if ghosts could leave without taking their ‘body’ with them. _A question for another day,_ she decided.  
She didn’t respond to him at first, taking in what he said and what he meant by it.  
“I’m sorry. I feel so ridiculous. I should go change.” She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go.  
“Nah,” he grinned devilishly, “I think I like ya in this.”  
Her cheeks burned, but she kept her eyes on his. She opened her mouth to speak when a sound from downstairs interrupted her.  
“Lydia!”


	11. Chapter 11

Lydia's stomach dropped at the sound of Delia's voice calling her. She stood rigid for a moment, earning another screech up the stairs.   
"Lydia!"   
She sprung into action, pulling away from Betelgeuse and starting to the door. He stopped for only a moment, searching her eyes. She kept her eyes on him as she pulled the door open.   
"Delia?" Her voice nearly wavered, but she regained control quickly. "What are you doing back?"  
"Bring your little ghost friends and join us for dinner!" Delia sounded excited, which made Lydia's stomach churn. She turned, looking down the stairs. She couldn't see Delia, but she knew her stepmother had to be giddy with excitement. She didn't want to think about what Delia and her father had planned for the Maitlands.  
"They aren't…" Before she could finish the sentence, she heard another familiar voice behind her.   
"Lydia?"

* * *

Betelgeuse made himself invisible the moment Lydia wasn't looking at him anymore. He didn't need that woman coming up here and expediting his plan. Good thing he did, too. The moment he was out of sight, the fuckin' Maitlands come bursting in the room lookin' like some kinda freak sideshow.  
Betelgeuse stifled a laugh, unable to look away from the large mouth Babs' eyes were peeking out of or the fuckin' eyes on Adam's fingers.   
Who did they think they were kidding?   
He watched Lydia whip around when Barbara said her name and the sheer horror on her face made him cringe. _If these two can scare 'er lookin' like a fuckin' Disney ride, I wonder how bad I could…_  
He chuckled to himself, making sure to keep his voice low. Barbara fixed her face and started talking to Lydia, though Betelgeuse was paying more attention to Adam's struggles. The man couldn't seem to figure out how to get his eyes back in his head.   
He heard Lydia say his name, though, and turned his attention back to her.

* * *

"Isn't that Betelgeuse's job?" Lydia retorted after Barbara told her that she and Adam thought they could scare her parents back to New York.   
"Don't say his name!" Barbara looked around, frantically. Lydia felt guilt twinge in the bottom of her stomach as she thought about everything she and the poltergeist had been through in the past few months.  
"Why not?" Lydia didn't know what came over her, but she felt a white hot anger rising beneath the surface. "Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse…"  
She didn't say it a final time, knowing he still had his freedom-- however basic it was. She didn't want to be the one to take it away from him.   
"Lydia!"  
She looked at Barb, rolling her eyes.   
"Delia wants you to come to dinner." Lydia finally told her, turning to see Adam. She giggled when she noticed his nose was sticking out about a foot from his face. He looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened and he pushed his nose back to its original size.   
"Why?" Adam searched Lydia's face.   
"They probably got Maxie Deen up here," Lydia shrugged, nonchalantly. "They wanted to show off their freakshow of a house."  
While Barbara and Adam shared a meaningful look, Lydia got an idea. She scanned the room, trying to see if she could find Betelgeuse anywhere. She couldn't see him, but she thought she still felt his presence near.   
"He told me he could take me to see you."  
Silence filled the room and Lydia could feel everyone's eyes on her.   
"He said he could take me over to find you."   
While it wasn't a lie, Lydia was hiding the most important bit of truth: he'd told her he would happily show her around the Neitherworld.   
She watched Adam's and Barbara's faces, waiting to see their reaction.

* * *

Betelgeuse pursed his lips, wondering why Lydia told the Maitlands that he had even spoken to her, much less what he said. He considered it might be a way for her to poke at them a bit-- a small sign of rebellion. In any case, the Maitlands now knew that their pseudo-adoptive daughter had spoken to him. He groaned, knowing what he would have to do.   
Snapping his fingers, he appeared within the model, standing on the railing of a shadow version of Dante's. It was empty, nothing inside it. He just knew they were expecting to find him at this place and, while he couldn't stand the thought of giving up his freedom for even a moment, he knew that, if he played along, he would have all the freedom he wanted soon.   
"Babs! Adam!" He called out from his perch. "How's it fuckin' goin'?"  
He couldn't help but laugh at her reaction. She jumped, turning to face him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape.   
"Ya still wan' me ta give 'em all a good" he paused for a moment, catching Lydia's eye and delighting in her appearance-- "scare?"

* * *

Lydia shivered when Betelgeuse looked at her, becoming suddenly very aware of her state of dress. She glanced between him and the Maitlands, crossing her arms over her chest and shrinking into herself a bit.   
"We think we can handle it," Adam responded, pointedly. He didn't seem to notice Lydia's reaction, but Barbara did. Her eyes narrowed as she looked back and forth between the poltergeist and Lydia, coming to the only conclusion she could.   
"You…" Barbara growled, leaning down to come face to face with the tiny Betelgeuse. "You change her back into her real clothes. Right. Now."  
Lydia felt a deep blush creep up her neck as she realized what Barbara thought. She stepped forward, opening her mouth to respond, before Betelgeuse spoke.   
"O' course," he grinned, devilishly. "I jus' wanted ta see what she looked like all dolled up."  
With a flick of his middle finger-- Lydia was sure he used that one just to piss Barbara off--, Lydia's makeup faded away and her slinky dress changed into her more common-- and appropriate-- oversized sweater and footed tights. She did realize that he left the heels, though.   
Barbara threw a glance in Lydia's direction, eyes still brimming with anger. She turned back to Betelgeuse, starting to say something more. Adam stopped her, placing a hand on her wrist. She jerked her face to him and nodded, lips still pursed in a tight line.   
"We will go to dinner," Barbara told Lydia without taking her eyes off of her husband. Lydia sighed, knowing that there was not much she could do to spare any of them the impending humiliation. She just nodded and moved to the door.

* * *

Betelgeuse had only told Barbara that he put Lydia in those clothes, made her look like that, because he was pretty certain that the Maitlands would never leave her alone again if he didn't. If he took the blame, Lydia still got to be their innocent, pseudo-adopted child and they would still trust her.   
He told himself that the only reason he cared was because he still needed to get close to her, still needed her. On some primal level, however, he knew he was lying to himself. He just couldn't admit it to himself.   
He watched as the three of them shuffled out the door, Barbara making a point of slam it behind them, and sighed. He was fairly certain that tonight would be the night he would have to do his job.  
He cracked his neck, stretching his arms high above his head, and rolled his shoulders forward. If he was right and the Maitlands couldn't take the utter humiliation they were about to suffer, they would call him. Reluctantly, sure, but they would call him.   
And he needed to be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!! I really have loved reading your comments and knowing how much you guys are enjoying this fic.


	12. Chapter 12

Lydia groaned as she stepped into the dining room. Delia was wearing feathers on her head and some sort of shiny glove. Lydia didn't usually care what the woman wore, but Delia just looked… _wrong_. Too excited. Too much like she would enjoy humiliating Lydia's ghostly parents.   
Lydia took a seat at the table, to the left of her father, and kept her eyes trained on her plate for a long time. She couldn't help but smile when she thought that Betelgeuse would be having a ball with this set up.   
"Everything is running smoothly, Delia."  
Lydia looked up, finding Otho-- Delia's agent and friend-- standing in the doorway. "Maxie Deen and Charles will be here any moment. And, the spread looks delicious. Are the ghosts around?" Otho shot a pointed look at Lydia.   
"Yeah. I don't think they'll be up to parlor tricks, though." Lydia rolled her eyes at the man, fighting back the urge to vomit. She felt so nervous, so unsure of what would happen.

* * *

Betelgeuse was starting to regret his decision to use a shadow version of Dante's instead of the real one. He didn't even want to sleep with anyone, he just got so _bored_. The only thing keeping him going was the knowledge that, at any moment, the Maitlands would come bursting through the door and ask for his help.   
He smirked, filing one of his long talons into a point, and watched the door. _Any minute now._

* * *

Lydia's face glowed beet red as she witnessed the insanity. Barbara was making everyone (except Lydia) dance around the table while Adam was putting on a sort of puppet show with the shrimp Delia made. The Maitlands seemed to be having a rough time and Lydia couldn't help thinking that Delia would be happy to know that her antics ended with misery for someone else.   
A smirk stretched across her face, though, when she saw the Maitlands line up for the true fright; they positioned everyone _just_ right and plunged their faces into the shrimp, causing Delia to let out a sharp squeak as the shrimpy hands pushed her back, causing her to call hard on the floor.   
The Maitlands rushed upstairs, both delighted and terrified, slamming the door behind them. Lydia sat, smiling to herself, and waited while the rest of the group cleaned themselves up. The sheer horror on her father's face told her that the Maitlands had finally truly scared him and he blubbered on and on about not wanting to live in that house anymore.   
He disappeared into the kitchen and Lydia could hear hushed tones through the kitchen door. She wondered what he was saying, what Delia thought. She slid closer to the door, trying to make out their words, when a realization hit her like a ton of bricks.   
If she left-- went back to New York, or where ever her father wanted to go--, she might never see Betelgeuse again. Her face fell, her eyes growing dark as she thought about it. She had grown fond of the poltergeist, even though no one knew that they were talking; no one suspected that they were friends.   
She hadn't had enough time to make up her mind on whether or not she wanted to leave when the kitchen door slammed open, revealing a satisfied- looking Delia and her grumbling father. It looked like she didn't have to make a choice.

* * *

Betelgeuse watched the Maitlands as they laughed and hugged, congratulating each other on how well their little performance went. He couldn't make up his mind on whether or not he hoped it worked. If it did, the Deetzes would leave (taking his one shot at freedom with them) and he wouldn't have to be the one scaring Lydia. On the other hand, though…  
He heard frantic footsteps coming up the attic stairs and found himself stuck between excitement and annoyance. He _loved_ his job. That's why he started doing it. Scaring people, frightening them to their very core, was his calling. He chased after that high like it was a drug. He never seemed to get enough.   
Lately, however, he got the same feeling by just being in the same room as Lydia. He was elated, drunk off of her company. The little voice piped up from the back of his mind, telling him that he could probably go without scaring anyone ever again as long as he had her by his side.   
_Probably_. He told himself. _But that's just the promise a freedom dangling in front a me._  
He could practically hear the voice rolling its eyes, leaving him feeling light- headed. He considered, not for the first time, that he should probably leave the breather alone. He had never argued with the voice this much before and she always seemed to be at the center of whatever the voice had to say.   
He shushed the voice as the door swung open. No one stepped through and, from his vantage point, he couldn't make anyone out from behind the door. He would be willing to bet, though, that it was Lydia, annoyed and shaken from whatever transpired downstairs.

* * *

Lydia stood at the door, her teeth clenched tight and her fists pressed into her thighs. She felt the threat of tears sting the corners of her eyes and a lump rising in her throat. She was _angry_. At the Maitlands, at Delia, at her father, and at herself. This whole thing was her fucking fault; if she hadn't told Delia about the Maitlands, none of this would be happening.   
"They want you to come back downstairs," Lydia bit out, barely opening her mouth. "Delia says you can wear whatever sheets you want."  
Barbara's mouth hung open and Adam turned away so Lydia wouldn't see him curse. She didn't know what to say. She knew they had planned on getting the Deetzes out and that they would be annoyed that their little ploy didn't work.   
A part of her was hurt that, after everything she had gone through with them, they still wanted to get rid of her. She tried to understand, though. They hadn't planned on spending their afterlife with people who changed their house and had strange artwork in every room.  
And Lydia had wanted to leave-- to go back to New York-- not long ago. They couldn't understand why she wanted to stay and she couldn't really tell them. She wanted to be with them... and Betelgeuse. Though, she figured that telling them that would only end in pain.   
"We aren't going back down there." Adam finally looked at Lydia. The fire in his eyes caused her to shiver.   
"Okay." She forced a smile. "I understand. I'll tell them."

* * *

The moment Lydia left, Betelgeuse dusted off his jacket. His time had come. He watched expectantly as Barbara and Adam mulled over their options, taking into account everything they felt.   
"If it was just Lydia…"  
"I just can't stand Delia…"  
"They have no respect for us…"  
Betelgeuse chuckled under his breath. He wondered how Lyds was fairing, telling her folks that the ghosts in the attic wanted nothing to do with them.   
Barbara turned to look at him.   
"Can you get them out?" Her voice was colder than Betelgeuse expected.   
He nodded eagerly, his eyes flashing up at the woman. He stretched his fingers, ready to finally finish his job.   
Barbara looked at Adam, silently asking his opinion. He nodded, solemnly, and she turned back to the poltergeist.   
"Betelgeuse."  
He smiled encouragingly, every hair on his arms standing on end.   
"Betelgeuse."  
He shook his arms out, stretching his back.   
"Betelgeuse."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, babes! I got married last Sunday and went on a mini-moon for a few days, so I haven't had much of a chance to write!

Lydia followed Delia up the stairs, trying everything in her power to stop the woman from breaking into the attic. She didn't want the Maitlands to be surprised and she wanted even less for Delia to get some sort of morbid satisfaction for humiliating them. Nothing she did seemed enough, though; Delia responded to every plea with a snippy comment. Once Delia started pounding on the attic door, Lydia felt defeat rush through her. She had no idea what to expect and she held her breath, praying to a god-- that she wasn't sure was there-- for mercy.  
"Open up!" Delia shouted, slamming her palm on the door. The moment after Delia's hand stopped beating seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Lydia felt an uneasy relief creep through the base of her skull. She hoped Delia would turn around and this whole debacle would end. She was granted no such luck.  
Delia sighed, turning her back to the door, and marched back down the stairs. She rested her hands on the bannister, a curse forming on her lips. Lydia took a deep breath, knowing that Delia wasn't done by any stretch of the imagination.  
She heard Delia shriek and whipped around, finding that the bannister was _scaly_. She backed away from the sight, unsure of the Maitlands' plan and unwilling to get in the way. The snake-bannister shuddered, whipping its head into her view and she felt a confused wave of relief and terror wash over her.  
"Beej…" She murmured, her voice lost to the panic that erupted around her.

* * *

Betelgeuse couldn't help feeling giddy as he watched sheer terror wash over Delia's face. He smiled, showing row after row of teeth, and lunged toward her, causing her to run into a room. His mind flashed to the first rule the Maitlands had given him upon his release.  
"Don't kill anyone," He reminded himself. He smiled, though, when he remembered the only thing Babs told him: "Bring Lydia to us."  
He knew as well as-- if not better than-- they did that she was the daughter they would never have. If they wanted him to spare her, he was happy to do so.  
In fact, he wanted to keep her from experiencing as much of this horror show as he could. Once she saw him like this, there might not be any coming back. And, as much as he told himself that he only cared because he needed her, he knew that there would be a sting if she ever looked at him the way Delia did.  
Lost in his own thought, he almost missed Chuck trying to escape him. He wrapped his tail around the man's leg, bringing him swinging up to eye level. In the corner of his eye, he saw the look on Lydia's face and nearly lost his resolve.  
He turned his attention back to Chuck, though, fighting against the urge to transform back and tell Lyds it was all a joke.  
"We've come fer yer daughter, Chuck," he snarled, barely able to get the words out. He dangled the man over where the bannister once stood, dropping him quickly when Lydia caught his attention.  
"Betelgeuse?" Her voice was so small, so meek. He felt an aching in his heart the moment the last syllable fell from her lips. Her eyes were wide with terror and he couldn't stop himself from trying to get closer to her, to tell her that everything would be okay.

* * *

Lydia had no idea how to react. She knew he was capable of doing things, of changing his appearance. She also knew that he was meant to scare her family away, by request-- no less-- of the people she had come to see as her parents. She felt so many confusing emotions bubbling inside of her.  
Then, he was looking at her. He was moving toward her. As much as she wanted to pull away, to find a hiding spot and wait this out, she saw his eyes peering down at her, a dull yellow color peeking out from behind the slitted pupil.  
It was still her Betelgeuse. It was his hair standing on end, his mouth forming her name, his eyes capturing her soul. And he seemed to be in pain. She pressed her palms into the door behind her, forcing herself to stay still, though she wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him.  
She could hear her dad thunk to the floor, hear his cry of pain. She barely registered Delia's screams coming from her father's office and she hadn't even noticed the Maitlands standing atop the stairs. Her attention was focused solely on the monstrous poltergeist in front of her.  
"Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!" Lydia watched as he snapped his head, cursing Barbara as she pulled him back, away from Lydia.

* * *

"FFFFUUUUUCCCKKK!" Betelgeuse shouted, his voice filling the attic, though he was stuck, once again, in that damned model town. He paced, kicking a fire hydrant over and shoving cars down the road, attempting to destroy everything in his path.  
He felt a white-hot rage rising within him, pulsating in his hands and feet, working its way through his limbs. Waves of uncontrollable darkness crashed over him as he replayed the scene in his mind.  
_May have ruined mah **one** shot…._  
"Di'nt mean ta drop 'im…" Betelgeuse's voice came out soft as he realized, not for the first time, that he didn't want to scare Lydia-- for more reasons than she was his ticket to freedom. He stilled himself, screwing his eyes shut and forcing himself to take deep, even breaths. He couldn't let the rage inside him dictate his next move. He needed to be calm, collected, when the Maitlands showed up.  
"He dropped him!"  
Betelgeuse grunted at the unwelcome break of the silence, but he kept himself steady, peeking from his clenched eyes to see Adam standing near the closed attic door. Betelgeuse couldn't see Barbara, but he knew that she had to be the one Adam was talking to.  
"Adam."  
Betelgeuse let his hands open, sucking in another deep breath, as he listened to their discussion.  
"He was just doing what we told him to do."  
"We didn't tell him to hurt anyone!" Adam ripped his glasses from his face, wiping them idly on the hem of his shirt.  
"We didn't tell him not to, either."  
"Are you saying this is our fault?!" Adam whipped around, staring directly at Betelgeuse. "Should we have been more clear about how we wanted those people gone?"  
Betelgeuse just shrugged, not wanting to get into an argument with Adam. He had enough on his mind as it was, trying to figure out how to fix the mess he'd gotten himself into.  
"Maybe." Barabra's meek voice caused Adam to turn his full attention to her, allowing Betelgeuse a moment of peace. The moment faded quickly, though, as Barbara pushed past Adam to come face-to-face with the poltergeist in the model town.  
"You shouldn't have hurt anyone."  
Betelgeuse offered his most convincing grin, though he agreed with Barbara. "Babs, ya paid me ta get rid of some breathers. I's just doin' mah job."  
Even as the words left his mouth, Betelgeuse felt dirty; he knew he was lying to some degree, but he couldn't let the Maitlands know that.  
"I should take mah chances with Edgar Allen Poe's daughter. I think she might understand me." Betelgeuse had no idea why he said it, but there was no taking it back now. He just hoped the Maitlands would be so distracted by his words that they wouldn't notice the softer tone of his voice.  
"You stay away from her!" Barbara shouted, picking Betelgeuse up between her index finger and thumb. Betelgeuse felt a bit of relief as she spoke, knowing she hadn't heard his tone, but he still didn't want to be put in this vulnerable position. He twitched his fingers, causing spikes to protrude from his body and dig into Barbara's fingers. He couldn't help but chuckle as she winced and dropped him, sticking her wounded fingers into her mouth.  
"Ya asked me to help ya out. I'm jus' doin' mah job."

* * *

Lydia's heart pounded in her throat as she made her way down the stairs to check on her father. Nothing about this moment felt real. It felt like it had to be a dream. Lydia was sure she would wake up soon and laugh (maybe not laugh) at the absurdity of everything.  
As she stepped from the bottom of the stairs, shs felt a sudden longing rise within her. She wanted to be with Betelgeuse, to ask him why he dropped her father. Why he was going through with this job, even after everything they had experienced together. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something. She couldn't find any will to do anything but continue moving forward.  
She stepped toward her father, hoping he was unhurt. She thought she heard him sobbing and found herself stepping quicker, concern taking over the longing.  
When she reached his side, however, she realized he was laughing. Anger brimmed at the edges of her mind, but she kept her face stoic as she took in the scene.  
"That was amazing!" Her father chortled as he got to his feet. Delia was standing not too far from him, chuckling to herself. She turned to face Maxie Deen and his wife.  
"A real paranormal experience!"  
Maxie Deen and his wife stared, seeming to be unable to comprehend what had just happened.  
"We have got to get them down here!" Lydia's father shouted, his eyes lighting up.  
"I doubt they would want to come down here, after that fiasco." Lydia shot her father a look. She didn't want a repeat of that snake. At least not until she had a chance to talk to Betelgeuse.  
Otho, it seemed, had other plans, though. Lydia didn't notice the book he snuck from her bag, the way his eyes widened at the title, the way his face lit up at the book.  
Lydia didn't have any idea what was to come.


	14. Chapter 14

Lydia felt a wave of relief when her father finally agreed that everyone should rest for the night and get back to ghost hunting tomorrow. She stayed in the hallway, waiting until everyone had retired to their respective rooms-- the Deens were settled in a makeshift guest room in the basement and Otho was in her father's office for the night--, before making her way to the attic.  
She was exhausted, the day had been much more hectic than she could have imagined, but it wasn't quite over-- not for her, at least.  
She stepped quickly up the stairs, barely breathing as she listened for any sound that would betray her. A stair creaked under her weight and she stopped dead in her tracks, holding her breath and listening for anything that would alert her to anyone else moving around. After what seemed like hours, but could only have been mere moments, she finally allowed herself to move, once more on her trek up to the attic.  
When she finally reached the attic door, she realized that she hadn’t thought anything through. She had no idea if the Maitlands would be hiding out up here, if they would even let her inside, much less if they would allow her to speak to Betelgeuse. She stood still at the attic door, resting her forehead on it for a long time, while she thought about her next move.  
Only a few moments passed before Lydia decided that she had no other choice; she would have to knock and play everything else by ear. There could be no accounting for the number of things that could go differently; she couldn’t even muster up the energy to try and think of a plan, much less actually come up with one.  
Slowly, resolutely, she placed one hand on the door handle and raised the other to knock gently in the center of the door. She made certain to knock lightly, though, so that no one else in the house could hear her.  
She didn’t notice the gentle creaking of a door below her, nor the eyes that crept toward her from the bottom of the stairs. She was too focused on the door in front of her and the people hiding behind it.

* * *

Betelgeuse stared at the door, mouth slightly agape, as he listened to the knock. He knew, based on how soft it was, that it had to be Lydia. He wanted to call out to her, but he didn’t know what to say. A part of him didn’t want her coming in here; the Maitlands would be none too pleased with them being in the same room. At least, that’s what he told himself was the problem.  
Mostly, he was concerned with the girl’s reaction to seeing him in his snake form, with him dropping her father, with him continuing with the contract, even though they had become so close. He didn’t know how to explain anything to her, if he was being honest with himself. He just wanted to tell her the truth, but he didn’t know where to begin.  
How could he explain that he genuinely didn’t have a choice in fulfilling the contract? How could he explain the curse that put him in this position in the first place? How could he tell her that the only reason he wanted to talk to her in the beginning was because she was his one shot at getting out of this godforsaken hell-hole?  
Betelgeuse was so lost in thought that he hardly noticed when the attic door creaked open to reveal a disheveled Lydia. He was too busy pacing to realize that she left the door open just a tiny crack, enough to make a quick get-away without it looking suspicious. He was so stuck in his own head, too, that he could barely register when she moved closer to the model-- to _him_.  
Lydia cleared her throat and leaned down, finally getting Betelgeuse’s attention. He whipped his face to look at her, scanning the room with the corner of his eye. He couldn’t see the Maitlands anywhere and he had no idea where they could have gone. He was too stuck in himself to pay enough attention. He could only hope that Lydia wouldn’t ask, but he realized how futile that hope really was. Honestly, he expected it to be the second question from her lips; the first being about her father.  
“Are you okay?” Lydia kept her voice low, but leaned in closer to Betelgeuse so that he could hear her clearly. His heart hadn’t beat in centuries, but he was certain he felt it skip a beat. He couldn’t believe the question she posed. He hadn’t expected her to care about him… Not after what just happened downstairs.  
He expected her to be disgusted, angry, _something_ , but he could never have predicted that she would be concerned about him.  
“Right as rain, Babes. Right as rain.” He grinned up at her, but he could tell by the shine in her eyes that she didn’t believe him.  
“Bullshit,” she dropped her voice even lower, “I can see right through you, Beej; I saw it then and I see it now.”  
It took Betelgeuse a moment to realize when ‘then’ was, but once he figured it out, he was completely and utterly at a loss for words. She had seen something in him when he was in his snake form that made her think--realize, really-- that he was not okay.  
“How?” The question fell from Betelgeuse’s lips before he could stop to think about anything. A scowl flashed across his face, but he forced it down quickly.  
It used to be that he didn’t mind his lack of a filter; honestly, people were very put-off by him most of the time, and he preferred it that way. No stupid questions, usually, nobody buggin’ him for anything (except a job every now and then). With Lydia, though, he had to be more careful. She took him by surprise, caused him to feel things he hadn’t felt in so long he thought he had forgotten how to feel them.  
“Your eyes.” Lydia smiled down at him, though he could see tears beginning to brim in the corners of her eyes.  
“I’m better now that yer here.” Betelgeuse scoffed at the phony-sounding line, but he knew deep down that he actually meant it.  
“I’m glad to hear that.” Lydia leaned back slightly, pursing her lips. Betelgeuse was sure he knew what was coming next.

* * *

“Betelgeuse,” Lydia whispered, not allowing her voice to rise above barely being heard. She wanted to question him, absolutely, but she wanted to do it while they were on equal ground. She needed to see him as the same man-- poltergeist-- that she knew and cared for, not as the monster the Maitlands were certain he was. “Betelgeuse.”  
“Lydia! Stop!” Adam’s voice nearly broke her concentration, but she kept her eyes carefully trained on Betelgeuse.  
Lydia opened her mouth, trying to form the ghost’s name one more time. “Be..”  
“No!” Barbara shouted. Lydia’s eyes sparkled with annoyance, though she didn’t even glance in Barbara’s direction.  
“Betel…”  
“Lydia, you stop right now!” Barbara stepped toward Lydia, pulling on the girl’s arm. Lydia huffed, keeping her eyes on Betelgeuse. She tried to send him a look to tell him that she was sorry, but she didn’t know if he got the message.  
“Why?!” Lydia snapped, finally turned to face Barbara and Adam. “Are you the only ones allowed to make deals with demons?”  
Neither of the Maitlands would catch her eye, so she kept going.  
“What? You make a deal--sign a contract-- to get rid of me and, when I finally start to try and fight back, you stop me? I will not leave. You tried to have my father killed! Did you think that was okay? Did you think that I would come crying to you when he died? Didn’t you realize that he would be stuck here with you? What were you…”  
Lydia let herself trail off, knowing that she was going to become repetitive soon. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel the anger and guilt that wracked her insides until this very moment. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she blamed the Maitlands or Betelgeuse, but it felt so good just to let it all out.  
“We…” Barbara refused to meet Lydia’s piercing gaze. Adam strode to the farthest corner of the attic, trying to escape Lydia’s icy demeanor. Lydia remained, stoically waiting for either of them to answer her.

* * *

Betelgeuse froze the moment Barbara and Adam came into the room, knowing that they would never allow Lydia to let him out of his tiny prison. He was a bit surprised, however, when Lydia chose to ignore them and keep trying to call his name.  
“Lydia, you stop right now!” Barbara stepped toward Lydia, pulling on the girl’s arm. Betelgeuse locked eyes with Lydia, watching for her next move. He could see something flit through her eyes, but he wasn’t sure of what it was until she spoke.  
“Why?” Are you the only ones allowed to make deals with demons?”  
He flinched at her words-- he wanted to explain that he wasn’t a demon; he kept his mouth shut, though, wanting to see how this would play out--, but remembered the look in her eyes from just a moment ago. She was apologizing to him. He couldn’t believe it. Even he knew he didn’t deserve an apology. Not now, not for anything. He kept his face carefully masked, however, not wishing to show even the slightest weakness in front of the Maitlands.  
They weren’t the first clients to be dissatisfied with his work and they certainly weren’t the first to try and weasel out of a contract. He was going to make damned sure that they were the last, though.  
Betelgeuse listened to Lydia’s whisper-yelling and couldn’t help but smile as pride swelled within him. From their months of conversations, Betelgeuse knew that Lydia hardly ever stood up for herself (though she was doing so more often since she began speaking to him) and to accuse her pseudo- parents of trying to get rid of her had to be the hardest thing she had ever done.  
It wasn’t a lie, though. Up until tonight, the Maitlands had made it abundantly clear that they wanted the Deetzes-- all of them-- out of their house.  
In the midst of the argument, Betelgeuse could see the attic door creaking open. He watched it for a long time, waiting to see who was pushing it, before he shouted up at Lydia.  
“Door!” Betelgeuse shouted, waving erratically. No one could hear him, so he tried again, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Tha fuckin’ door!”  
His voice was finally heard and, to no one’s surprise, the Maitlands vanished into thin air.

* * *

Lydia looked around for a moment, finding herself feeling quite lost, before training her eyes on the door. Otho had crept inside, raking his eyes over Lydia. She shuddered under his gaze, but turned her attention back to the model, locking eyes with Betelgeuse before calling his name.  
“Betelgeuse,” Lydia whispered, desperately trying to ignore the large man standing so close to her. “Betelgeuse.”  
“Isn’t it incredible, Charles?” Otho’s voice dragged Lydia’s attention from the model once more. She heard Betelgeuse scoff and she turned her attention back to him for a moment, trying once more to say his name the third and final time. She truly needed to speak to him and, if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t care who else was around when she did.  
“Bete…”  
“It’s the whole damned town!” Charles stepped into the attic and around the model, scanning through it with money-hungry eyes. “Grab that side, Otho!”  
Otho took the side opposite Charles, popping the model at the hinge so that they could get it down the stairs. Lydia tried again to call for Betelgeuse, feeling desperation rise in her throat.  
“Betelg…”  
“Lydia! How did you get in here?” Delia’s shriek stopped Lydia in her tracks. She tried to answer, but was interrupted.  
“Nevermind! We will discuss it in the morning!”  
By the time Lydia thought to call out for Betelgeuse again, the attic door was slammed shut and the Maitlands were nowhere to be found, leaving Lydia standing alone, yearning for the poltergeist that nearly killed her father and the ghosts that wanted her gone.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mildly triggering stuff? Maybe? Like, Otho is a weird pervert, but I don't spend a lot of time on it, so be warned.

Betelgeuse grunted as Chuck and Otho clicked the model into place. He hadn’t been downstairs in months and the whole place looked completely different than the last time he was down here. The once bland (though, he had to admit, endearing) and simplistic walls served as a stark contrast to the vibrant red and black paint job. The table was much longer, much more imposing than the country table the Maitlands owned. Betelgeuse found himself admiring the new look, even as he picked it apart in his mind.   
Specifically, he had a problem with the chairs in the living room. They looked similar to the torture devices he used at work. He much preferred his old, ratty couch; he was certain of it. These things were all angles and ridges. He grumbled at himself, realizing that he was getting lost in a stupidly trivial matter.   
What mattered now was the book Betelgeuse caught peeking from inside Otho’s jacket. He grimaced, knowing what the book was and what it meant for Otho to have it. He wasn’t certain, of course, because he didn’t know Otho personally, but he was pretty damned sure that Otho had to be an unsavory character. He saw the way the man looked at Lydia. The thought of Otho even getting close enough to breathe the same air caused a violent and untimely explosion to escape Betelgeuse’s fingers.   
A fire hydrant flew up into the air, catching Otho’s attention. The man leaned in, sneering down at the model as he tried to locate the cause of the blast. When he saw Betelgeuse, he felt a shiver creep through his spine, but he kept his face stoic as he caught the poltergeist’s eyes. He drew his mouth into a wide smile and leaned in even closer, the stench of his breath hitting Betelgeuse and knocking him back a half-step.   
“You must be why our little Lydia is hiding in the attic,” Otho growled, keeping his voice low enough that no one besides Betelgeuse could hear him. “Though, I don’t know why she would insist upon playing with a doll…”  
The sentence trailed off, but Betelgeuse could put two and two together, especially when it came to innuendos. He knew what Otho was thinking and he knew that he wanted Otho’s head for it.

* * *

Lydia paced around her room, finding herself unable to stop or think clearly. She needed to find a way to get downstairs, to get to Betelgeuse. She wasn’t sure if calling him from this far away would even release him and she didn’t want to take the chance of alerting anyone-- specifically the Maitlands-- to her efforts. No, her best bet was to get close enough that she could say it quickly and make sure he was in range.   
She just needed a plan. Since she was sent to her room, she found herself cursing herself. She was technically an adult-- why hadn’t she stood up to Delia? Why was she so inclined to listen and do as she was told? She had no idea, but she couldn’t spend too much time thinking about that now. She needed to get downstairs, to find Betelgeuse, to find the Maitlands, and to keep them safe.   
She had just discovered the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ was missing and she couldn’t be sure of who took it, but she had a strong suspicion that it was Otho. He had a tendency to show up when things went missing.   
She paced to the door, wincing as it creaked open and holding her breath to see if anyone was coming. After a few moments, she decided she needed to go or forever waste in this room. She took a tentative step out, listening to the voices coming from downstairs.   
Based on what she could hear, she was certain everyone was done there, including Delia and her father. She smiled, now knowing that she could get to the landing and get a better vantage point without being caught. She had done just that several times over when she was a child.   
She crept to the landing, peering out from behind a wall, and kept her eyes and ears carefully trained on the scene below her. She allowed herself one moment to look for the model and, upon seeing that it was carefully placed near the kitchen, she felt a new plan beginning to take form.   
She needed to get to Betelgeuse. She moved to hurry down the stairs, but someone spoke and her blood ran cold.   
“I have a plan to bring these ghosts out, once and for all.” Otho grinned, bringing the book from his jacket.

* * *

Betelgeuse growled up at Otho, daring him to come closer. The other man just smirked and stepped away.   
“I have a plan to bring these ghosts out, once and for all.” Otho grinned, bringing the book from his jacket. Betelgeuse wanted to bash his head in. He could feel his vision begin to fade into red, but his eye caught something that pulled him back.   
Lydia stood, crouching on the stairs, her eyes wide in horror. He could see the struggle she was going through: did she scream and try to stop Otho on her own or wait for them to get further away so she could make it to the model?   
Betelgeuse found himself begging for the latter. He may not have known Otho, but he could tell that, once the man’s mind was made up, nothing would get in the way. He found himself genuinely concerned about what Otho could do to his little breather and-- almost more importantly-- what he wouldn’t do to her.   
Betelgeuse waved up at Lydia, hoping she could see him. He knew she was too far away, but, in his current state, there really was nothing he could do. He needed her to call for him. He just didn’t know how to get that across. He could feel panic rising in his throat as Otho began reading from the Handbook. All his months of hard work, all of his care and sensibility, were about to be thrown to the Sandworms.   
“Beej!” Lydia’s harsh whisper pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up at her, a tear forming in his eye. Everything they had built together was going to come crashing down.   
And there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

“You okay?” Lydia leaned close to the poltergeist. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a tear slip down his cheek. He grinned up at her and told her he was fine. She turned her attention to the scene playing out behind her.   
Barbara was appearing in her wedding gown. Her eyes grew wider with each passing second and Lydia realized that it wasn’t only fear doing this to her. She was being exorcised. Her fingers began to curl into themselves and her hair started falling out by the handful. Her face was nearly unrecognizable. A few moments behind her, Adam appeared, filling out his wedding tuxedo and taking her hand.   
Lydia knew it couldn’t be long. With a sense of urgency, she whipped to face the poltergeist.   
“Can you help them?”   
“Yeah, Babes. I can help.”

* * *

Betelgeuse couldn’t shake the slimy feeling inching its way through him. He knew he was about to royally fuck everything up, but he was running out of time. And, if there was one thing Betelgeuse knew how to do, it was strike a deal.   
“But, I gotta be out.”   
“I figured…”   
“Out fer good, Lyds.”  
“Okay?” Lydia paused, searching his eyes for his meaning. “What does that mean?”   
“I gotta get hitched.” Betelgeuse kicked himself internally for his next sentence. “Call it a ‘marriage of inconvenience’. But we both need sumthin’. I need out, you need ta save yer pals. Call it even.”  
“Oh… Okay.” Lydia fought back tears. Betelgeuse resisted the urge to tell her that he was just joking, that everything would be okay.   
“You can help them, though?” Lydia choked, her face flushed and her fists in tight balls. Betelgeuse took a moment to take her in. He wanted to be able to remember something about her when all this was over. He loved the way her eyes betrayed any emotion she felt, how her hair fell wildly around her face. He thought he would miss that the most.   
“Yer talkin’ ta tha Ghost with the Most, Babes. I can do it.”   
Lydia nodded, taking a deep breath.   
“Betelgeuse.”

* * *

Lydia fought back the urge to spit in Betelgeuse’s face, knowing she didn’t have the time to fight him right now. _Since we are getting married,_ she mused, _I suppose I will have the rest of my life to yell at him for this._  
She couldn’t help but take a moment to allow herself to deal with the shock of the proposal, but she realized that, honestly, it all made sense. His interest in her, his want to get to know her. It was all because of this… whatever it was. He was just using her, building up to this moment.   
A part of Lydia knew she was being unfair, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit the thing that scared her the most: this was all real. Every moment, every kiss, every longing look. It was easier just to tell herself that he was using her.   
“Betelgeuse,” Lydia spat out his name a second time. He reeled with the way she said it and she couldn’t stop the guilt that formed in her gut. She wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, but she couldn’t be sure of that and time was running out.   
“Betelgeuse.” Lydia took great care to say his name with feeling the third time, trying to make sure she wasn’t portraying the betrayal and anger that she felt with it. She took a big step back from the model, uncertain of what to expect, but she knew it was going to be big.   
“It’s showtime!” Betelgeuse grinned up at her, dusting off his jacket. Icy thorns ran through Lydia’s heart as she considered what she had unleashed. 

It was too late to think about that now.


	16. Chapter 16

Betelgeuse reveled in the shock and horror that he saw cross the Deetzes faces and was practically overjoyed by Otho's reaction. He always loved causing a scene and being the center of attention and, with so many months put into this, he hadn't had a chance to feel the icy glare of sheer terror in a long time.  
He supposed that he got some of that fear when he attacked them in snake form, but it really wasn't the same. Now, he had more reign, more opportunity to cause mayhem. He had to act quickly, though; he didn't know how long he truly had.  
He contorted his body into a form of carnival game, allowing his wrists and hands to become a blow up version of hammers.  
"Attention K-Mart shoppers…" He announced, focusing more on the Deans than anything else. He let his hands inflate and, with a twitch of one eye, two strong man competition bells rose behind Maxie and his wife. They were simply too happy at his appearance and would have to go if his half-witted plan could go on.  
He thrust his arms down, sending the Deans through the roof and grinned as Otto turned away from him. He hadn't forgotten their little talk and, after this was all over, he would have a chat with the man. Right now, though, he had bigger fish to fry.  
He stepped forward, bowing at the waist and being more of a showman than he really had time for. By the looks of the Maitlands, he had to act quickly to uphold his end of the deal.  
A twitch of two fingers, accompanied by acting like a golfer paring up for a tee, ended the Maitlands torment.  
He saw them fall to the table and looked at Lydia, knowing he was running out of time.

* * *

Lydia watched in horrified fascination as Betelgeuse strode toward her. She knew he was capable of these things, but she just didn't think about it. Not really. Though she had seen him in his snake form, she could tell that this was different for him. He seemed to just be stretching his wings before flight.  
A flick of his wrist sent Otho, now dressed in a pastel blue suit, screaming. Lydia could feel electricity in the air and somehow knew that Betelgeuse wasn't quite done with Otho.  
He looked at her, panic rising in his eyes, as he stepped toward her and she suddenly realized that the marriage was coming now.  
She had no time to respond or even think before Betelgeuse had her parents trapped in two of Dehlia's large and, frankly, gaudy sculptures.  
She cast a worried look to the Maitlands, who were coming back to their forms and putting themselves back together again. She could see their concern for her and she wished she could tell them that she would be alright.  
In a flash, Lydia was dressed in the frilliest red dress that she could imagine and Betelgeuse was standing in a red velvet tuxedo at her side. She glanced at him, seeing the worry in his eyes. A part of her wanted to calm him down, wanted to ask for a little more time, but she knew that he wouldn't hear her.  
The fireplace grew, creating a doorway to the Neitherworld, and a goblin-like man stepped through. Lydia tried to pull away from Betelgeuse to no avail. His hand was on here like a vice grip and she wouldn't be able to run from this problem.  
She didn't know what she should do.

* * *

Betelgeuse could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped with Lydia to the makeshift altar. He could hear the Deetzes struggling behind him and he wanted nothing more than to silence them or send them away.  
He could feel the panic of those around him and, normally, he would love it. Right now, though, he needed to get through the wedding.  
He looked over at Lydia, hoping that she would understand and forgive him. He knew this was a long shot, but he was left without much choice. He would have to beg for forgiveness later.  
"Do you, Betelgeuse, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife…"  
Betelgeuse heard Adam coming up behind him and turned his attention to the man.  
"Betelgeuse!"  
He panicked, sending Adam into the model. He needed to get through this.  
"I promised mahself I's only gonna do it once…" He muttered to himself, a flash of his departed wife flashing through his mind. "Yes! I do!"  
"Betelgeuse!"  
Barbara sprung up, trying to stop anything more from happening. Betelgeuse groaned and snapped, zipping her mouth closed.  
"Do you, Lydia…"  
"Betelgeuse!"  
Betelgeuse screeched, the anxiety of the situation finally getting him out of his comfort zone. He didn't have time to deal with everyone. He tossed a slab of steel onto Barbara's mouth, hoping that would shut her up. She continued struggling behind him, though.  
"No!"  
Betelgeuse knew this moment was coming. He knew she would have responded better to a slower burn. He didn't have a chance to explain everything to her. He felt a pang of guilt rush through him as he covered her mouth, knowing what the curse could do to her if she tried to break their agreement.  
He should have told her.

* * *

Lydia bit at Betelgeuse's hand, trying to get him to let her go. She couldnt believe what was happening.  
"Yes, I love that man of mine!"  
Lydia felt tears in her eyes as she tried to say his name again. She needed time. He needed to give her time!  
"The rings?"  
Betelgeuse pulled his hand from her mouth and Lydia got a chance. She started to say his name but, the moment he pulled the ring from his jacket pocket, she knew she had to go through with this.  
"She meant nothin' ta me."  
Lydia knew better. She could see the pain in his eyes and the forceful, yet gentle way he handled the ring. She knew where this ring came from and she felt pity for the poltergeist. She kept her mouth closed as the ceremony continued.  
Barbara continued struggling to speak and Lydia cast a worried glance at her, wishing she could tell her that everything would be alright.  
Before she could speak, Betelgeuse snapped his fingers and sent Barabara away. Lydia could only hope that she was safe.  
He pushed the ring onto her finger, causing her to yelp in pain as it slid into place. It _burned_ , like it was branding her. She wished for nothing more than to ask him to stop. They still had time. He could still stop this and she could still help him.  
"I now pronounce you man and…"  
Barbara burst in through the ceiling, riding on the back of something that Lydia couldn't name.  
The un-namable entity carried Betelgeuse through the floor and, in a moment of pure gut reaction, Lydia screamed and tried to stop him from being torn away from her.  
In the confusion that ensued, no one heard the priest. No one except Lydia.  
"Wife."  
Lydia dropped her bouquet down the hole, uncertain of what to do next. Was Betelgeuse dead? Was she supposed to go after him? And what did this wedding mean?  
She shook those thoughts from her head and helped the Maitlands get her parents out of their sculptured prisons.  
It wasn't until later that night that she thought through the wedding again and realized that she was, without a doubt, married to the Ghost with the Most. Whether she wanted to be or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun  
> I hope you guys are enjoying this fic. I love writing it.  
> I should tell you that we aren't at the end yet. There is more to come! Just please be patient with me as I work through it!  
> Thank you all and stay safe, Babes!


	17. Chapter 17

Lydia went to school the next day, trying to push the events from the previous night out of her mind.  
Barbara and Adam didn't like the idea of her leaving the house, but she reminded them that she really didn't have much of a choice. It was nearly Thanksgiving and she knew that she would be stuck in the house for longer than she was really ready for soon enough.  
She sat in the back of the class, refusing to look at anyone. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and, though she tried to cover the dark circles under her eyes, she knew they would still betray her.  
The professor was droning on about some historical event that she would typically love to hear about, but she couldn't bring herself to pay attention. She absently twisted her wedding ring, her hands in her lap.  
She took it off before she went to bed the night before, finding that the ring had indeed burned its pattern into her finger. She wondered what that meant and whether or not Betelgeuse knew about the branding.  
She hadn't planned on putting it back on. She didn't even remember picking it up off of her nightstand this morning. She found it in her bag once she got to school and couldn't help slipping it back onto her finger, allowing it to cover the scarred portion.  
"Miss Deetz?"  
Lydia's eyes shot up, meeting the professor's. How long was she zoning out?  
"Yes?"  
"You were called to the office."  
"Oh."  
Lydia averted her gaze, shoving her things into her bag as quickly as she could. She stuck her hand is ber bag as she walked out of the room, not wanting anyone to see the ring or question her about it.  
Her father was waiting for her at the office. His steely gaze told her something was wrong.  
"Ready to go?" His voice was gruff, insistent. Lydia nodded, her eyes wide and her hands shaking at her sides.  
They left without a word and rode together in silence. Fear crept through Lydia's bones, leaving goosebumps as it travelled up her spine.  
Charles didn't speak until they pulled up to the house and shut off the car.  
"Barb needs to talk to you."  
Lydia froze, her hand on the door handle.  
"Why?"  
"She just said it was urgent." Charles shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. Lydia could see worry gather around his eyes, though, and she knew better.  
She raced to the door, nearly falling into Barbara on the other side.  
"What's going on?" Lydia asked, breathless from her sprint.  
"He might come back." Barbara said nothing else, though Lydia waited patiently. She could feel frustration replacing the fear.  
"He might come back." Lydia repeated the words, her voice quivering. She knew that Barbara would mistake the sound for concern, but Lydia couldn't help the excitement she felt pulling at the corners of her mind. "How?"  
"He's still…" Barbara stopped. She was going to say 'alive', but that wasn't true. "Around."  
"I guess we'll find out." Lydia sighed, making her way to her room. She wanted to ask how Barbara knew Betelgeuse was still around, but she knew that Barb wouldn't tell her anything. She was pretty sure she had an idea of who would keep the Maitlands in the loop: Juno.  
Lydia sat down at her vanity, pulling her hair from its bun. She had to think. She didn't know if she wanted Betelgeuse back. She wasn't even sure how to get him back. She just knew that she needed time to figure it all out.

* * *

Betelgeuse sat in the waiting room, scoffing at the absurdly long number on his ticket. He needed to get into see Juno, to explain himself.  
As much as he disliked the woman, she was like family to him. She was the first person he met on this side; she helped him find his wife and consoled him when his wife was taken to the Lost Souls Room.  
She was also one of the people who helped write his curse, dooming him to a lifetime of in-betweens. He’d honestly deserved that, if he was being honest. He was fairly certain that she wrote in the part about people breaking deals with him. It wasn’t much, but it did help him out. He was able to thrive on the other side for short amounts of time and, if anyone broke their contract, they would suffer for it. She might’ve been the one to send him that book on Neitherworld Marriage Laws, too.  
She was the only person he truly felt he’d disappointed.  
He hated the waiting room. It always smelled like the newly-dead: confused, barely rotted, scared. He wouldn’t mind those smells, normally, but the waiting room seemed to take away any sense of helplessness that people might feel. Betelgeuse thought it made the afterlife seem too normal, too safe. He knew better.  
He’d been here longer than any of them and he was the only one who could truly interact with the outside world. Sure, ghosts could haunt their houses and teacups spin, but Betelgeuse could feel the wind on his cheek and the sun on his skin.  
He was more alive than any of them.  
Maybe that was why he never felt happy in the Neitherworld. He didn’t really belong here. He kept telling himself that, at least. Though, if he didn’t belong here, where did he belong? He certainly didn’t belong out there.  
He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. He twisted the number between his fingers, catching a glimpse of his ring finger. There was a thick, red scar wrapped around it, pulsing. He muttered to himself for a moment, wondering what the scar could be.  
Then, it hit him. A ton of bricks slammed right down on top of him.  
This was his wedding band.  
This was his proof that the wedding went through, even as he was dragged back to the waiting room.  
He grinned, a giddiness he hadn’t felt in a long time rising in his chest. He had to get out of here. He had to check on his sweet, blushing bride. Looking side to side, he realized that the man sitting next to him had the next number.  
“Hey, look over there!” He pointed, drawing the man’s attention. While the man was distracted, Betelgeuse traded the numbers.  
“Looks like I’m next,” Betelgeuse smirked, his face darkening for a moment. “Which’s good, because I got ‘n appointment tomarra.”  
The man at his side was none too pleased, but Betelgeuse couldn’t care less. Even as the man shrunk his head, though Betelgeuse screeched out in protest, he knew what was waiting for him.  
The man traded the numbers back, which annoyed Betelegeuse a bit, but he knew that, if he had this scar, Lydia had some mark of their wedding.  
It was only a matter of time before she called him. He was certain of it.  
With that certainty came a renewed sense of excitement. He could wait here. He could watch the newly deads come and go. He could listen to Miss Argentina talk and explain the afterlife time and again.  
He knew, no matter they tried, Lydia would be able to reach him. She would be able to call him from any point in any plane. He just had to give her time to be curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my American babes, have a happy and safe holiday! 🦃


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special treat 'cause I'm feelin' festive!  
> Have an extra chapter, Babes! ❤️  
> Be safe!
> 
> * * *

Weeks went by, Christmas and New Year’s came and went, and Lydia tried to ignore the ever-present urge to call Betelgeuse. She wanted-- no, needed-- to know if the entirety of their relationship was fake, if there was even a moment when it was real. She couldn't decide if knowing the truth, one way or the other, would be a help or a hindrance to her. She felt paralyzed with indecision, locked in a constant state of pros and cons, and she couldn't find her way out.  
Even so, one crisp January morning, before anyone else was up and about, she found herself creeping up the attic stairs. She didn't really know why she was going, but she felt like she needed to. She sucked in a breath as she made her way up the stairs, stopping only once-- when one of the steps creaked under her weight. When she made it to the door, she held her breath, hoping it wouldn't make enough noise to alert anyone, and pushed it open.  
The attic looked very much the same as it did the last time she was here, though, with the Maitlands spending less and less time in here, the cobwebs and dust were starting to take over.  
She pushed the door closed behind her, not stopping until she heard the latch click into place. After a moment of thought, she twisted the lock-- even though it wouldn't do much good against the Maitlands-- and pressed her forehead to the cool wood, gathering her will, for a long moment.  
When she finally opened her eyes, she realized why the attic felt so different. The furniture was the same, covered in the same dusty cloth, and the model town was mostly the same-- though Adam had updated it a little bit (he couldn't get rid of Betelgeuse's house; every time he tried, it just reappeared within the day; he finally gave up after a few weeks' worth of attempts)-- but the presence of the poltergeist she had long since grown accustomed to was completely gone. She couldn't even feel the remnants of him anywhere.  
She paced to the model town, leaning in to see Betelgeuse's house more clearly. She squinted, trying to find a light or movement behind the tattered curtains-- something to let her know if he was in there. She couldn't make anything out, however, and she pulled back with a huff.  
"Beej?" The nickname fell from her lips with ease, though it felt clunky and awkward now. "Are you here?"  
She needed to hear the truth; she deserved to hear it from him. The last time she saw him, everything was happening so quickly that she couldn't keep up with any of it. She knew he had used her, possibly even manipulated her, to gain his freedom, but she knew there had to be more to the whole situation than what she saw that day.  
When no answer came, she huffed, flopping onto the couch, causing dust to fly up around her. She shook her head as her eyes gently watered and she couldn't tell if it was from the dust or from the fear that Betelgeuse was dead. _In the Lost Souls room,_ she corrected herself, recalling the things she had read in the Handbook.  
Sighing, she moved to push herself up, her hand slipping in between the cushion and the back of the couch. She winced as her nail bent back from the sudden contact with something hard. She gripped it in her hand and tugged it free from the spot in which it was wedged. She gasped when she saw it.  
_The book! The book about Neitherworld Marriages Betelgeuse was reading so long ago!_  
She chuckled dryly to herself as she thought back to the day she asked him about it. Now that she thought back on the memory, it all seemed so clear.  
She smoothed her palm over the large cover, letting her fingers drift along the ridges-- she did make sure not to touch the embossed words, however, remembering what Beej told her about the Handbook. She didn't want to push her luck and end up dead before she could figure out what was going on.  
She pulled the book to her chest, deciding to take it back to her room. If she was going to be married to a poltergeist, maybe she should learn the rules… and, it might give her a way out of this sham of a marriage.  
_If I even want out._ The thought escaped before she could catch it, leaving her shivering. What was she thinking?

* * *

Betelgeuse sat in the waiting room. He'd been here for five minutes and five centuries simultaneously and he hated every second of it. He glanced around, noting the emptiness of the room. When he first got here, it was nearly overflowing and, it seemed, everyone got to see their caseworker before him.  
Even though he was the only person left, Miss Argentina kept calling numbers. Every few hours (seconds?), she called a new number and no one came to the window. It was getting frustrating.  
He'd long since fixed his head from where that witch doctor shrunk it, but everytime someone in the office peered out at him, he felt like they saw him with a shrunken head. He always smiled, always waited, but he could feel the murderous rage building up inside him, just beneath the surface.  
He knew why they were biding their time. They knew that the marriage went through; he'd barely heard the priest say it, but it was said: "man and wife". He knew they were holding him here for as long as they could, trying to run out their time-- trying to keep him from consummating his marriage and gaining his freedom.  
Miss Argentina pushed the window open, catching his eyes as she called the next number.  
"Number 9,998,383,745,002!"  
The corners of his lips drew upward as his face darkened. They wouldn't be able to keep him here for much longer.

* * *

Lydia found herself entranced with the book the moment she opened it. The Neitherworld had so many more rules about marriage than she had expected. There were rules about what species could marry and how they had to go about getting a license, rules about people marrying their subordinates (which drew questions of what work would look like on the other side), and rules about how marriages from her world translated to the afterlife.  
As much as she wanted to peruse the whole book, she knew she had to start with the section that mattered to her: the rules about the living marrying the dead.  
She perched herself on the side of her bed, laying the book out on her thighs, and flipped to the corresponding pages. She sighed when she realized just how much material she wouls have to get through and decided it best to move to her vanity. She pulled out a blank notebook and a pen and got to work, jotting notes as she read.  
Hours passed, the sky grew dark, and she still kept going. There was so much information for her to get through. She paused for a moment, closing her aching eyes, and set her pen down. She glanced at her alarm clock, making a note of the time, before deciding that she had a few more minutes before Delia would be calling her down to whatever concoction she called 'dinner'.  
She focused her attention back to the page and gawked as she read the next line.  
"Either party has the free will to break the union by reciting, without hesitation and in clear terms, the wish for the union to be dissolved, so long as this recitation occurs prior to the moment of consummation."  
She didn't realize she read the sentence aloud, but she could feel the weight of each of the words. She couldn't believe it; this was why Betelgeuse never wanted to sleep with her. He had to wait, if he wanted the freedom he so desperately craved.  
She chuckled mirthlessly, writing the sentence, word for word, in her notebook, underlining it for emphasis. If she wanted out of the marriage, this was how she could do it.  
She scanned the page, realizing for the first time that she could get Betelgeuse here, if she wanted to see him.  
She couldn't believe the idea hadn't crossed her mind before. She knew she had to call his name three times before, but she guessed she had assumed that, once the marriage took-- once he was carried off by a sandworm (she learned the term from Barb)-- she wouldn't be able to see him again until he was ready.  
She flipped to the back of the notebook, a plan forming in her mind. She needed to double check the Handbook, but she was pretty certain she could call him here and keep him here on her terms-- for a few minutes, that is. She didn't need more than a few minutes, though. She just needed the truth and she needed to hear it from him.


End file.
